THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


IN    MY    NURSERY. 


BY 


LAURA    E.  RICHARDS, 

AUTHOR    OF 
"THE  JOYOUS    STORY    OF   TOTO,"   "  TOTO'S   MERRY    WINTER,"    ETC. 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS. 
1890. 


Copyright,  1890, 
BY  ROBERTS  BROTHERS. 


All  rights  reserved. 


2Sntorrsttji  Jittss: 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE. 


Co  nip 

JULIA  WAKD  HOWE. 


Sweet  I  when  first  my  baby  ear 
Curled  itself  and  learned  to  hear, 
'Twos  your  silver-singing  voice 
Made  my  baby  heart  rejoice. 

Hushed  upon  your  tender  breast, 
Soft  you  sang  me  to  my  rest; 
Waking,  ivhen  I  sought  my  play, 
Still  your  singing  led  the  way. 

Cradle  songs,  more  soft  and  low 
Than  the  bird  croons  on  the  bough; 
Olden  ballads,  grave  and  gay, 
Warrior's  chant,  and  lover's  lay. 

So  my  baby  hours  went 

In  a  cadence  of  content, 

To  the  music  and  the  rhyme 

Keeping  tune  and  keeping  time. 


TO    MY  MOTHER. 

So  you  taught  me,  too,  ere  long, 
All  our  life  should  be  a  song,  — 
Should  a  faltering  prelude,  be 
To  the  heavenly  harmony; 

And  with  gracious  words  and  high, 
Bade  me  look  beyond  the  sky, 
To  the  Glory  throned  above, 
To  th' eternal  Light  and  Love. 

Many  years  have  blossomed  by: 
Far  and  far  from  childhood  I; 
Yet  its  sunrays  on  me  fall, 
Here  among  my  children  all. 

So  among  my  babes  I  go, 
Singing  high  and  singing  low; 
Striving  for  the  silver  tone 
Which  my  memory  holds  alone. 

If  I  chant  my  little  lays 
Tunefidly,  be  yours  the  praise; 
If  I  fail,  't  is  I  must  rue 
Not  t'  have  closelier  followed  you. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Dedication «         «...  v 

In  my  Nursery 9 

The  Baby's  Future 10 

Baby's  Hand r     . 12 

The  First  Tooth        , 14 

Johnny's  By-low  Song 15 

Baby's  Valentine 17 

The  Eain f .     .  18 

The  Ballad  of  the  Fairy  Spoon 19 

Song  of  the  Little  Winds - 24 

Good-night  Song 25 

Another  "Good-night" 26 


669311 


viii  CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


"A  Bee  came  tumbling" „ 26 

Jingle 27 

Little  Old  Baby        28 

Baby's  Journey 28 

The  Bumble-bee        29 

The  Owl  and  the  Eel  and  the  Warming-pan 30 

Young  (one)'s  Night  Thoughts 31 

Little  Sunbeam 32 

Baby's  Belongings 34 

Infantry  Tactics       35 

Baby  Bo 36 

The  Difference 37 

Little  John  Bottlejohu 38 

Jemima  Brown 40 

Alice's  Supper .     .     .     .  42 

Toddlekins       45 

Bobbily  Boo  and  Wollypotump 46 

Sleepylaud        46 

Little  Brown  Bobby 48 

Phil's  Secret 49 

A  Song  for  Hal 50 

The  Fairies 51 

The  Queen  of  the  Orkney  Islands 54 

Baby's  Ways 56 

Pot  and  Kettle 57 

Punkydoodle  and  Jollapin 58 

Mrs.  Snipkin  and  Mrs.  Wobblechin 59 

My  Sunbeams .     .  61 

In  the  Closet        62 

Bed-time 64 

Bird-song .  65 

Geographi 66 

Higgledy-piggledy 69 

Belinda  Blonde 70 

Tommy's  Dream ;   or,  The  Geography  Demon 71 

Polly's  Year 74 

What  the  Robins  sing  in  the  Morning 75 


CONTENTS.  ix 

PAGE 

The  Eve  of  the  Glorious  Fourth 75 

The  Dandy  Cat       • 78 

A  Party 80 

Jumbo  Jee 81 

An  Indian  Ballad 82 

The  Egg '. 84 

Wouldn't 85 

Will-o'-the-wisp 86 

Xonseuse  Verses 87 

An  Old  Bat's  Tale 88 

To  the  Little  Girl  who  wriggles 89 

The  Forty  little  Ducklings 90 

The  Mouse 92 

A  Valentine 93 

Jamie  in  the  Garden 94 

Somebody's  Boy  (not  mine) 95 

Bogy 96 

The  Mermaidens 97 

The  Phrisky  Phrog 98 

The  Ambitious  Chicken 100 

The  Boy  and  the  Brook 102 

The  Shark 103 

The  Easter  Hen 105 

Pump  and  Planet 106 

The  Postman 108 

Hopsy  Upsy 109 

Little  Black  Monkey       110 

Jippy  and  Jimmy 112 

Master  Jack's  Song 113 

Mother  Kosebush 115 

The  Five  Little  Princesses      .     .     .  • 116 

The  Hornet  and  the  Bee 117 

The  Three  Little  Chickens  who  went  out  to  Tea 119 

A  Legend  of  Lake  Okeefinokee 122 

Grandpapa's  Valentine 124 

Alibazan 125 

The  Three  Fishers  127 


x  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Peepsy , 129 

May  Song      .     .     .  * ,          .     .  130 

Two  Little  Valentines 133 

A  Howl  about  an  Owl 134 

Our  Celebration ,  135 

The  Song  of  the  Corn-popper 136 

What  Bobby  said 137 

Master  Jack's  Views        138 

Emily  Jane 140 

Song  of  the  Mother  whose  Children  are  Fond  of  Drawing  ....  141 

The  Seven  Little  Tigers  and  the  Aged  Cook 143 

Agamemnon 145 

The  Wedding 148 

Swing  Song 149 

The  Little  Cossack 150 

What  a  Very  Rude  Little  Bird  said  to  Johnny  this  Morning  .     .     .  152 

The  Monkeys  and  the  Crocodile 153 

Painted  Ladies 155 

Some  Fishy  Nonsense 158 

Lady's  Slipper ,     ,     .  159 

A  Little  Song  to  sing  to  a  Little  Maid  in  a  Swing 161 

Betty  in  Blossom-time 163 

Betty's  Song 164 

A  Nonsense  Tragedy       165 

From  New  York  to  Boston 168 

Sandy  Godolphin 170 

My  Clock       171 

My  Uncle  Jehoshaphat        173 

Rosy  Posy 174 

Sick-room  Fancies. 

I.  My  Wall  Paper    . ,     .     .     .  175 

II.  My  Japanese  Fan 177 

Marjorie's  Knitting 179 

He  and  His  Family 182 

Easter-time 183 

Easter 184 

Jacky  Frost , 185 


CONTENTS.  xi 

PAGE 

Subtraction 180 

Grandfather  Dear        187 

Gathering  Apples 188 

The  Ballad  of  the  Beach 190 

The  Boots  of  a  Household 194 

The  Palace 196 

Bunker  Hill  Monument       198 

May 199 

Gregory  Griggs        201 

A  Nursery  Tragedy 202 

The  Umbrella  Brigade 205 

The  Princess  in  Saturn  and  the  Red  Man  in  Mars 207 

Wiggle  and  Waggle 212 

Gret  Gran'f  ther 213 

Day  Dreams 218 

The  Battle 222 

The  Strange  Beast 224 

A  Garden  Jingle 225 

The  Baby  goes  to  Boston 226 

The  Flag  in  the  Schoolroom 228 

Joh'imy  Jump-up 229 

The  Outlandishman 230 

A  Sleigh-ride 231 

The  Little  Gnome 232 

The  Little  Dutchess   .  236 


IN  MY  NURSERY. 


IN   MY   NURSERY. 

IN  my  nursery  as  I  sit, 
To  and  fro  the  children  flit : 
Rosy  Alice,  eldest  born, 
Rosalind  like  summer  morn, 
Sturdy  Hal,  as  brown  as  berry, 
Little  Julia,  shy  and  merry, 
John  the  King,  who  rules  us  all, 
And  the  Baby  sweet  and  small. 

Flitting,  flitting  to  and  fro. 

Light  they  come  and  light  they  go: 

And  their  presence  fair  and  young 

Still  I  weave  into  my  song. 

Here  rings  out  their  merry  laughter, 

Here  their  speech  comes  tripping  after : 

Here  their  pranks,  their  sportive  ways, 

Flash  along  the  lyric  maze, 

Till  I  hardly  know,  in  fine, 

What  is  theirs  and  what  is  mine : 

Can  but  say,  through  wind  and  weather, 

They  and  I  have  wrought  together. 


10 


IN  MY   NURSERY 


THE  BABY'S   FUTURE. 

WHAT  will  the  baby  be,  Mamma, 

(With  a  kick  and  a  crow,  and  a  hushaby-low). 

What  will  the  baby  be,  Mamma, 

When  he  grows  up  into  a  man  ? 

Will  he  always  kick,  and  always  crow, 

And  flourish  his  arms  and  his  legs  about  so, 

And  make  up  such  horrible  faces,  you  know, 

As  usrlv  as  ever  he  can  ? 


The  baby  he  may  be  a  soldier,  my 

dear, 
With  a  fife  and  a  drum,  and  a  rum- 

tiddy-tum ! 
The  baby  he  may  be  a  soldier,  my 

dear, 

When  he  grows  up  into  a  man. 
He  will  draw  up  his  regiment  all  in 

a  row, 
And  flourish  his  sword  in   the  face 

of  the  foe, 

Who  will  hie  them  away  on  a  tremulous  toe, 
As  quickly  as  ever  they  can. 


THE    BABY'S    FUTURE. 


11 


The  baby  he  may  be  a  sailor,  my  dear, 
With  a  fore  and  an  aft,  and  a  tight  little  craft. 
The  baby  he  may  be  a  sailor,  my  dear, 
When  he  grows  up  into  a  man. 
He  will  hoist  his  sails  with  a  "  Yo  !  heave-ho ! " 
And  take  in  his  reefs  when  it  comes  on  to  blow, 
And  shiver  his  timbers  and  so  forth,  you  know, 
On  a  genuine  nautical  plan. 


He  will  dose  you  with 
rhubarb,  and  calomel 
too, 

With  draughts  that  are 
black  and  with  pills 
that  are  blue ; 

And  the  chances  will 
be,  when  he 's  finish 
ed  with  you, 

You'll  be  worse  off  than 
when  he  began. 


The  baby  he  may  be  a 

doctor,  my  dear, 
With  a  powder  and  pill, 

and  a  nice  little  bill. 
The  baby  he  may  be  a 

doctor,  my  dear, 
When  he  grows  up  into 

a  man. 


The  baby  he  may  be  a  lawyer,  my  dear, 

With  a  bag  and  a  fee,  and  a  legal  decree. 

The  baby  he  may  be  a  lawyer,  my  dear, 

WThen  he  grows  up  into  a  man. 

But,  oh !  dear  me,  should  I  tell  to  you 

The  terrible  things  that  a  lawyer  can  do, 

You  would  take  to  your  heels  when  he  came 

into  view, 
And  run  from  Beersheki  to  Dan. 


12  I2T  MY  NURSERY. 


BABY'S   HAND. 

LIKE  a  little  crumpled  roseleaf 

It  lies  on  my  bosom  now, 

Like  a  tiny  sunset  cloudlet, 

Like  a  flake  of  rose-tinted  snow ; 

And  the  pretty,  helpless  fingers 

Are  never  a  moment  at  rest, 

But  ever  are  moving  and  straying 

About  on  the  mother's  breast : 

Trying  to  grasp  the  sunbeam 

That  streams  through  the  window  high  ; 

Trying  to  catch  the  white  garments 

Of  the  angels  hovering  by. 

And  as  she  pats  and  caresses 

The  dear  little  lovely  hand, 

The  mother's  thoughts  go  forward 

Toward  the  future's  shadowy  land. 

And  ever  her  anxious  vision 

Strives  to  pierce  each  coming  year, 

"With  a  mother's  height  of  rapture, 

With  a  mother's  depth  of  fear, 

As  she  thinks,  "  In  the  years  that  are  coming, 

Be  they  many  or  be  they  few, 

What  work  is  the  good  God  sending 

For  this  little  hand  to  do  ? 


BABY'S    HAND.  13 

Will  it  always  be  open  in  giving, 

And  always  strong  for  the  right  ? 

Will  it  always  be  ready  for  labor, 

Yet  always  gentle  and  light  ? 

Will  it  wield  the  brush  or  the  chisel 

In  the  magical  realms  of  Art? 

Will  it  waken  the  loveliest  music 

To  gladden  the  weary  heart? 

Will  it  smooth  the  sufferer's  pillow, 

Bring  rest  to  his  aching  head  ? 

Will  it  proffer  the  cup  of  cold  water? 

By  it  shall  the  hungry  be  fed  ? 

Oh !  in  the  years  that  are  coming, 

Be  they  many  or  be  they  few, 

What  now  is  the  good  God  sending 

For  this  little  hand  to  do  ? " 

Thus  the  mother's  anxious  vision 

Strives  to  pierce  each  coming  year, 

With  a  mother's  height  of  rapture, 

With  a  mother's  depth  of  fear. 

Ah  !  whatever  may  be  its  fortunes, 

Whatever  in  life  its  part, 

This  little  wee  hand  will  never  loose 

Its  hold  on  the  mother's  heart. 


14  AV   MY   NURSERY. 


THE   FIEST   TOOTH. 

MY  own  little  beautiful  Baby, 
You're  weeping  most  bitterly,  dear! 
There 'd  soon  be  a  lake,  if  we  treasured 
Each  sweet  little  silvery  tear. 

A  lake  ?     Nay !  an  ocean  of  sorrow 

Would  murmur  and  sigh  at  your  feet, 

And  you  would  be  drowned  in  your  tear-drops, 

My  own  little  Baby  sweet. 

But,  darling,  as  in  the  wide  ocean 
The  divers  plunge  boldly  down, 
And  bring  up  the  radiant  pearl-drops 
To  set  in  some  royal  crown, 

E'en  so  from  the  sea  of  your  sorrow, 
This  dolorous  "fountain  of  youth," 
Will  come,  ere  a  week  be  over, 
A  little  wee  pearly  tooth. 

And  then  the  tears  will  all  vanish, 
Dried  up  by  the  sunshine  of  smiles; 
And  we  '11  have  back  our  own  little  Alice, 
With  her  merriest  frolics  and  wiles. 

And  whenever  you  laugh,  my  Baby, 
Through  all  your  life's  happy  years, 
You  '11  show  us  the  radiant  pearl-drop 
That  you  brought  from  the  ocean  of  tears. 


JOHNNY'S    BY-LOW  SONG.  15 


JOHNNY'S  BY-LOW   SONG. 

HERE  on  our  rock-away  horse  we  go, 
Johnny  and  I,  to  a  land  we  know, — 
Far  away  in  the  sunset  gold, 
A  lovelier  land  than  can  be  told. 

Chorus.     Where  all  the  flowers  go  niddlety  nod, 
Nod,  nod,  niddlety  nod! 
Where  all  the  flowers  go  niddlety  nod, 
And  all  the  birds  sing  by-low ! 
Lullaby,  lullaby,  by-low. 

The  gates  are  ivory  set  with  pearls, 
One  for  the  boys,  and  one  for  the  girls : 
So  shut  your  bonny  two  eyes  of  blue, 
Or  else  they  never  will  let  you  through. 

Chorus.     Where  all  the  flowers  go  niddlety  nod, 
Nod,  nod,  niddlety  nod ! 
Where  all  the  flowers  go  niddlety  nod, 
And  all  the  birds  sing  by-low! 
Lullaby,  lullaby,  by-low. 

But  what  are  the  children  all  about? 
There  's  never  a  laugh  and  never  a  shout. 
Why,  they  all  fell  asleep,  dear,  long  ago ; 
For  how  could  they  keep  awake,  you  know  ? 


16  IN   MY  NURSERY. 

Chorus.     When  all  the  flowers  went  niddlety  nod, 
Nod,  nod,  niddlety  nod! 
When  all  the  flowers  went  niddlety  nod, 
And  all  the  birds  sang  by -low! 
Lullaby,  lullaby,  by-low. 

And  each  little  brown  or  golden  head 

Is  pillowed  soft  in  a  satin  bed, — 

A  satin  bed  with  sheets  of  silk, 

As  soft  as  down  and  as  white  as  milk. 

Chorus.     And  all  the  flowers  go  niddlety  nod, 
Nod,  nod,  niddlety  nod  ! 
And  all  the  flowers  go  niddlety  nod, 
And  all  the  birds  sing  by-low! 
Lullaby,  lullaby,  by-low. 

The  brook  in  its  sleep  goes  babbling  by, 
And  the  fat  little  clouds  are  asleep  in  the  sky ; 
And  now  little  Johnny  is  sleeping  too, 
So  open  the  gates  and  pass  him  through. 

Chorus.     Where  all  the  flowers  go  niddlety  nod, 
Nod,  nod,  niddlety  nod! 
Where  all  the  flowers  go  niddlety  nod, 
And  all  the  birds  sing  by-low! 
Lullaby,  lullaby,  by-low. 


BABY'S    VALENTINE.  17 


BABY'S   VALENTINE. 

VALENTINE,  0  Valentine, 
Pretty  little  Love  of  mine; 
Little  Love  whose  yellow  hair 
Makes  the  daffodils  despair; 
Little  Love  whose  shining  eyes 
Fill  the  stars  with  sad  surprise : 
Hither  turn  your  ten  wee  toes, 
Each  a  tiny  shut-up  rose, 
End  most  fitting  and  complete 
For  the  rosy-pinky  feet ; 
Toddle,  toddle  here  to  me, 
For  I  'm  waiting,  do  you  see  ?  - 
Waiting  for  to  call  you  mine, 
Valentine,  0  Valentine ! 

Valentine,  0  Valentine, 

I  will  dress  you  up  so  fine ! 

Here's  a  frock  of  tulip-leaves, 

Trimmed  with  lace  the  spider  weaves; 

Here 's  a  cap  of  larkspur  blue, 

Just  precisely  made  for  you ; 

Here  's  a  mantle  scarlet-dyed, 

Once  the  tiger-lily's  pride, 

Spotted  all  with  velvet  black 

Like  the  fire-beetle's  back ; 

Lady-slippers  on  your  feet, 

Now  behold  you  all  complete ! 

Come  and  let  me  call  you  mine, 

Valentine,  0  Valentine ! 


18  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

Valentine,  0  Valentine, 

Now  a  wreath  for  you  I  '11  twine. 

I  will  set  you  on  a  throne 

Where  the  damask  rose  has  blown, 

Dropping  all  her  velvet  bloom, 

Carpeting  your  leafy  room  : 

Here  while  you  shall  sit  in  pride, 

Butterflies  all  rainbow-pied, 

Dandy  beetles  gold  and  green, 

Creeping,  flying,  shall  be  seen, 

Every  bird  that  shakes  his  wings, 

Every  katydid  that  sings, 

"Wasp  and  bee  with  buzz  and  hum. 

Hither,  hither  see  them  come, 

Creeping  all  before  your  feet, 

Rendering  their  homage  meet. 

But  't  is  I  that  call  you  mine, 

Valentine,  0  Valentine ! 


THE   RAIN. 

THE  rain  came  down  from  the  sky, 
And  we  asked  it  the  reason  win- 
It  would  ne'er  stay  away 
On  washing  day, 
To  let  our  poor  clothes  get  dry. 

The  rain  came  down  on  the  ground, 
With  a  clattering,  pelting  sound, 
"  Indeed,  if  I  stayed 
Till  you  called  me,"  it  said, 
"  I  should  not  come  all  the  year  round !  " 


THE  little  wee  baby  came  tripping 

All  out  of  the  fairy  land, 
With  a  nosegay  of  fairy  flowers 

Clasped  close  in  each  little  wee  hand  ; 

The  flower  of  baby  beauty, 

The  flower  of  baby  health, 
And  all  the  blossomy  sweetness 

That  makes  up  a  baby's  wealth. 

But  still  he  kept  sighing  and  sobbing, 

Sighing  and  sobbing  away, 
Till  I  said,  "Now  what  ails  my  Baby, 

And  why  does  he  cry  all  day  ?  " 


And  he  answered,  "  Oh  !  as  I  came  tripping, 

I  spied  a  rose  by  the  way  : 
And  on  it  the  loveliest  dewdrop 

I'd  seen  since  I  came  away. 


20 


IN   MY   NURSERY. 


"  But  as  I  was  stooping  to  sip  it, 
A  wind  came  up  from  the  south ; 

And  it  blew  my  little  wee  spoonie 
Away  from  my  little  wee  mouth." 


THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  FAIRY  SPOON. 


21 


"  And    what    was    your     little 

wee  spoon ie  ? 
And    what    does    my    Baby 

mean  ?  " 
"  Oh !      the     little     wee     fairy 

spoonie 

That  was   given   me   by  the 
queen. 

"  For  whenever  a  baby  leaves  her, 
The  queen  she  grants  him  a  boon,  — 

She  fills  both  his  hands  with  flowers, 
And  puts  in  his  mouth  a  spoon. 


"  And  some  are  made  of 
And  some  are  made  of 
And  some  are   made  of 

the  silver  white, 
For     the      good-luck 
babes       that       are 
born." 

"  But  what  are  they  for, 

my  Baby  ?  " 
"  Nay  !  that  part  I  can 
not  tell ! 
But  send    for   the  fairy 

Spoonman, 

For   he   knows    it   all 
right  well. 


the 
the 


22  ^T   MY   NURSERY. 

';  Oh !  the  little  old  fairy  Spoonman, 
He  lives  in  the  white,  white  moon. 

Send  a  whisper  up  hy  a  moonbeam, 
And  he  will  be  down  here  soon." 

Then  I  whispered  along  a  moonbeam 
That  silvered  the  grass  so  clear, 

"  Oh !  little  old  fairy  Spoonman, 

Come  down  and  comfort  my  dear ! " 

Then  something  came  sliding,  sliding 
Down  out  of  the  white,  white  moon. 

And  something  came  gliding,  gliding 
Straight  in  at  my  window  soon. 

And  there  stood  a  little  old  fairy, 
All  bent  and  withered  and  black, 

With  a  leathern  apron  about  him, 
And  a  bundle  of  spoons  at  his  back. 

And  first  he  looked  at  my  baby, 
And  then  he  looked  at  me; 

And  then  he  looked  at  his  apron, 
But  never  a  word  spake  he. 

"  Oh !  Spoonman  dear,"  said  the  baby, 
"  The  wind  blew  my  spoon  away. 

So  now  will  you  give  me  another, 
Yon  little  black  Spoonman,  pray  ? 


THE    B^LLLAD    OF    THE    FAIRY  SPOON.  23 

"For  I  did  iiot  lose  my  spoonie, 

Nor  drop  it  carelessly ; 
But  a  wind  came  up  to  my  poor  little  mouth, 

And  blew  it  away  from  me." 

"  Now  well  for  you,"  said  the  Spoonman, 

"  Little  Baby,  if  this  be  so. 
For  if  you  had  carelessly  lost  your  spoon, 

Without  it  through  life  you  'd  go. 

"And  well  for  you,  little  Baby, 

If  you  know  your. spoon  again. 
For  but  if  you  know  the  very  same  one, 

Your  asking  will  be  in  vain. 

"  So  say :  was  it  made  of  the  hazel, 

Or  was  it  made  of  the  horn, 
Or  was  it  made  of  the  silver  white, 

If  a  good-luck  babe  you  were  born?" 

"  Oh !  it  was  nor  horn  nor  hazel, 

But  all  of  the  silver  bright: 
For  a  good-luck  babe  I  was  born  indeed, 

To  be  my  Mammy's  delight." 

"  Then  take  your  spoon,  little  Baby, 

With  the  fairies'  blessing  free, 
For  the  south  wind  blew  it  around  the  world, 

And  blew  it  again  to  me." 


24  I2f   MY   NURSERY. 

With  that  ho  gave  to  my  baby 

The  tiniest  silver  spoon. 
Then  out  lie  slipped  in  the  moonlight, 

And  we  lost  him  from  sight  right  soon. 

Now  some  may  think  I  am  foolish, 
And  some  may  think  I  am  mad ; 

But  never  once  since  that  very  night 
Has  my  baby  been  cross  or  sad. 

And  I  counsel  all  anxious  mothers 
Whose  babies  are  crying  in  pain, 

To  send  for  the  fairy  Spoonman, 
And  get  them  their  spoons  again. 


SONG   OF   THE   LITTLE   WINDS. 

THE  birdies  may  sleep,  but  the  winds  must  wake 
Early  and  late,  for  the  birdies'  sake. 
Kissing  them,  fanning  them,  soft  and  sweet, 
E'en  till  the  dark  and  the  dawning  meet. 

The  flowers  may  sleep,  but  the  winds  must  wake 
Early  and  late,  for  the  flowers'  sake. 
Rocking  the  buds  on  the  rose-mother's  breast, 
Swinging  the  hyacinth-bells  to  rest. 

The  children  may  sleep,  but  the  winds  must  wake 
Early  and  late,  for  the  children's  sake. 
Singing  so  sweet  in  each  little  one's  ear, 
He  thinks  his  mother's  own  song  to  hear. 


GOOD-NIGHT   SONG.  25 


GOOD-NIGHT  SONG. 

GOOD-NIGHT,  Sun !  go  to  bed ! 

Take  your  crown  from  your  shining  head. 

Now  put  on  your  gray  night-cap, 

And  shut  your  eyes  for  a  good  long  nap. 

Good-night,  Sky,  bright  and  blue ! 
Not  a  wink  of  sleep  for  you. 
You  must  watch  us  all  the  night, 
With  your  twinkling  eyes  so  bright. 

Good-night,  flowers !  now  shut  up 
Every  swinging  bell  and  cup. 
Take  your  sleeping-draught  of  dew: 
Pleasant  dreams  to  all  of  you ! 

Good-night,  birds,  that  sweetly  sing ! 
Little  head  'neath  little  wing! 
Every  leaf  upon  the  tree 
Soft  shall  sing  your  lullaby. 

Last  to  you,  little  child, 
Sleep  is  coming  soft  and  mild. 
Now  he  shuts  your  blue  eyes  bright : 
Little  Baby  dear,  good-night! 


26  IN   MY   NURSERY. 


ANOTHER   "  GOOD-NIGHT." 

BIRDS,  birds,  in  the  linden-tree, 
Low,  low  let  your  music  be ! 
Bees,  bees,  in  the  garden  bloom, 
Hushed,  hushed  be  your  drowsy  hum ! 
Wind,  wind,  through  the  lattice  waft 
Still,  still,  thy  breathing  soft ! 
Flowers,  sweet  be  the  breath  you  shed  : 
Two  little  children  are  going  to  bed. 

Eyes,  eyes,  'neath  your  curtains  white, 
Veiled,  veiled  be  the  sunny  light! 
Lips,  lips,  like  the  roses  red, 
Soft,  soft  be  your  sweet  prayers  said  ! 
Feet,  feet,  that  have  danced  all  day, 
Now,  now  must  your  dancing  stay. 
Low,  low  lay  each  golden  head  ! 
Two  little  children  are  going  to  bed. 


A  BEE  came  tumbling  into  my  ear, 
And  what  do  you  think  he  remarked,  my  dear? 
He  said  that  two  tens  make  up  a  score, 
And  really  and  truly  I  knew  that  before. 


JINGLE. 


27 


JINGLE. 

I  JUMPED  on  the  back  of  a  dragon-fly, 
And  flew  and  flew  till  I  reached  the  sky. 

I  pulled  down  a  cloud  that  was  hiding  the  blue, 
And  all  the  wee  stars  came  tumbling  through. 

They  tumbled  down  and  they  tumbled  round, 

And  turned  into  flowers  as  they  touched  the  ground. 

So  come  with  me,  little  children,  come, 

And  down  in  the  meadow  I  '11  pick  you  some. 


28  /JV   MY   NURSERY. 


LITTLE   OLD   BABY. 

LITTLE  old  baby,  pretty  old  baby, 

Screams  and  cries  at  his  little  old  bath, 

Pours  on  the  head  of  his  little  old  mother 
All  the  full  vials  of  baby  wrath. 

Little  old  baby,  pretty  old  baby, 

If  you  could  see  just  how  queer  you  look.  - 
Arms  and  legs  in  a  knot  together, 

Face  twisted  up  in  a  terrible  crook,  — 

How  you  would  straighten  out  every  feature, 

Masculine  vanity  all  aflame ! 
Fie!  what  a  noise  from  a  little  wee  creature! 

Did  they  abuse  him !   and  ivas  it  a  shame ! 

Little  old  baby,  pretty  old  baby, 

Curls  himself  over  and  goes  to  sleep. 

Ah  !  such  is  life,  my  little  old  baby, 
Sleep  and  forget  it,  or  wake  and  weep! 


BABY'S  JOURNEY. 

HOPPETY  hoppety  ho ! 

Where  shall  the  baby  go  ? 

Over  dale  and  down, 

To  Limerick  town, 

And  there  shall  the  baby  go. 


THE    BUMBLEBEE.  29 

Hoppety  hoppety  ho ! 
How  shall  the  baby  go  ? 
In  a  coach-and-seven, 
With  grooms  eleven, 
And  so  shall  the  baby  go. 

Hoppety  hoppety  ho  ! 
When  shall  the  baby  go  ? 
In  the  afternoon, 
By  the  light  of  the  moon, 
And  then  shall  the  baby  go. 

Hoppety  hoppety  ho! 

Why  shall  the  baby  go  ? 

To  dance  a  new  jig, 

And  to  buy  a  new  wig, 

And  that's  why  the  baby  shall  go. 


THE   BUMBLEBEE. 

THE  bumblebee,  the  bumblebee, 

He  flew  to  the  top  of  the  tulip-tree. 

He  flew  to  the  top,  but  he  could  not  stop, 

For  he  had  to  get  home  to  his  early  tea. 

The  bumblebee,  the  bumblebee, 

He  flew  away  from  the  tulip-tree ; 

But  he  made  a  mistake,  and  flew  into  the  lake, 

Ind  he  never  got  home  to  his  early  tea. 


30 


IN   MY  NURSERY. 


THE   OWL  AND   THE   EEL   AND   THE   WARMING-PAN. 

THE  owl  and  the  eel  and  the  warming-pan, 

They  went  to  call  on  the  soap-fat  man. 

The  soap-fat  man  he  was  not  within  : 

He  'd  gone  for  a  ride  on  his  rolling-pin. 

So  they  all  came  back  by  the  way  of  the  town, 

And  turned  the  meeting-house  upside  down. 


YOUNG   (ONE)'S    NIGHT    THOUGHTS.  31 


YOUNG   (ONE)'S   NIGHT   THOUGHTS. 

"Hi!"  said  the  baby. 
"Ho!"  said  the  baby. 
"  Ha ! "  said  the  baby, 
"  I  won't  go  to  sleep ! 
Naughty  old  mother, 
You  make  such  a  pother, 
Just  for  to  bother 
You,  awake  I  will  keep. 

"  Dance  !  "  said  the  baby. 
"  Prance  !  "  said  the  baby. 
"  Perchance,"  said  the  baby, 
"You  think  I'm  a  goose. 
Vainly  you're  dreaming 
Of  rest,  and  your  scheming 
To  silence  my  screaming 
Is  all  of  no  use. 

"  Sing ! "  said  the  baby. 
"Ring!"  said  the  baby. 
"  Bring,"  said  the  baby, 
"  My  rattles  and  toys. 
Still  I  will  weep,  oh  ! 
Awake  I  will  keep,  oh ! 
Won't  go  to  sleep,  oh  ! 
Will  make  a  noise ! 

"Walk!"  said  the  baby. 
"Talk!"  said  the  baby. 
"I'll  balk,"  said  the  baby, 
"  Your  efforts,  one  and  all. 


32  IN   MY   NURSEEY. 

Still  I  '11  be  scorning, 
When,  towards  the  morning, 
Without  any  warning 
Asleep  I  will  fall." 


LITTLE    SUNBEAM. 

LITTLE  yellow  Sunbeam, 
Waking  up  one  day, 
Down  into  the  garden 
Took  her  shining  way  ; 
Merrily  went  dancing 
Down  the  morning  air, 
Shaking  out  the  sparkles 
From  her  golden  hair. 

Little  yellow  Sunbeam 
Twinkled  all  about, 
Down  among  the  green  leaves 
Flitting  in  and  out. 
Waking  up  the  daisies 
From  their  morning  doze. 
Ringing  up  the  lily-bells, 
Knocking  up  the  rose. 

Little  yellow  Sunbeam, 

Climbing  up  the  wall, 

On  the  baby's  window 

Happened  for  to  fall. 

In  the  little  chamber 

As  she  took  a  peep, 

There  she  saw  the  Lovely  One 

Lying  fast  asleep. 


LITTLE    SUNBEAM.  33 

Little  yellow  Sunbeam 
Tripped  into  the  room, 
Sweeping  out  the  darkness 
With  her  golden  broom. 
All  the  little  shadows, 
Glimmering  and  gray, 
Gathered  up  their  dusky  skirts, 
Softly  slid  away. 

Little  yellow  Sunbeam, 
Flitting  to  the  bed,  - 
Merrily  went  dancing 
Round  the  baby's  head. 
Suddenly  there  flashed  out, 
To  her  great  surprise, 
Other  little  sunbeams 
From  the  baby's  eyes. 

Little  yellow  Sunbeam 
Said,  "  How  can  this  be  ? 
Whence  these  little  sparklers 
So  unlike  to  me  ? 
Scarce  I  think  they  can  be 
Sunbeams  real  and  true, 
For  we  all  are  yellow ; 
These  are  lovely  blue." 

Little  yellow  Sunbeam 
Flew  back  to  the  sky. 
Running  to  her  father, 
She  began  to  cry : 
"  Father,  you  must  vanish  ! 
Run  and  hide  your  head ! 
There  's  a  brighter  sun  than  you 
In  the  baby's  bed." 

3 


34  IN  MY   NURSERY. 


BABY'S   BELONGINGS. 

HERE  are  the  baby's  bonny  blue  eyes. 

What  shall  we  give  her  to  see  ? 
A  calico  doll  and  a  parrotty  poll, 

As  funny  as  funny  can  be. 

Here  are  the  baby's  little  pink  ears. 

What  shall  we  give  her  to  hear  ? 
A  bell  that  will  ring,  and  a  bird  that  will  sing, 

And  a  brook  that  goes  tinkling  clear. 

Here  is  the  baby's  little  wee  nose. 

What  shall  we  give  her  to  smell  ? 
A  hyacinth  blue  and  a  violet  too, 

And  roses  and  lilies  as  well. 

Here  is  the  baby's  pretty  red  mouth. 

What  shall  we  give  her  to  eat? 
A  sugary  heart  and  a  raspberry  tart, 

And  everything  else  that  is  sweet. 

And  here  are  the  baby's  little  fat  hands. 

What  shall  we  give  her  to  hold  ? 
A  sunbeam  ?     That 's  right !  and  a  rainbow  bright. 

O  O 

And  plenty  of  silver  and  gold. 


INFANTRY    TACTICS.  35 


INFANTRY  TACTICS. 

Present  arms!    There  they  are, 

Both  stretched  out  to  me. 
Strong  and  sturdy,  smooth  and  white, 

Fair  as  arms  may  be. 

Ground  arms!  on  the  floor, 

Picking  up  his  toys : 
Breaking  all  within  his  reach, 

Busiest  of  boys. 

Right  wheel!  off  his  cart, 

Left  wheel  too  is  gone. 
Horsey's  head  is  broken  off, 

Horsey's  tail  is  torn. 

Quick  step,  forward  march  ! 

Crying,  too,  he  comes. 
Had  a  battle  with  the  cat. 

"  Scratched  off  bofe  my  fums  !  " 

Shoulder  arms!    Here  at  last, 
Round  my  neck  they  close. 

Poor  little  soldier  boy 
Off  to  quarters  goes. 


36 


IN  MY   NURSERY. 


BABY   BO. 

FLY  away,  fly  away,  Birdie  oh  ! 
Bring  something  home  to  my  Baby  Bo ! 
Bring  him  a  feather  and  bring  him  a  song, 
And  sing  to  him  sweetly  all  the  day  long. 

Hoppety,  kickety,  Grasshopper  oh  ! 
Bring  something  home  to  my  Baby  Bo ! 
Bring  him  a  thistle  and  bring  him  a  thorn, 
Hop  over  his  head  and  then  be  gone. 


THE    DIFFERENCE.  37 

Howlibus,  growlibus,  Doggibus  oh ! 
Bring  something  home  to  my  Baby  Bo ! 
Bring  him  a  snarl  and  bring  him  a  snap, 
And  bring  him  a  posy  to  put  in  his  cap. 

Twinkily,  winkily,  Firefly  oh ! 
Bring  something  home  to  my  Baby  Bo! 
Bring  him  a  moonbeam  and  bring  him  a  star, 
Then  twinkily,  winkily,  fly  away  far. 


THE  DIFFERENCE. 

EIGHT  fingers, 

Ten  toes, 
Two  eyes, 

And  one  nose. 
Baby  said 

When  she  smelt  the  rose, 
"Oh!   what  a  pity 

I  've  only  one  nose !  " 

Ten  teeth 

In  even  rows, 
Three  dimples, 

And  one  nose. 
Baby  said 

When  she  smelt  the  snuff, 
"  Deary  me ! 

One  nose  is  enough." 


38 


IN   MY   NURSERY. 


LITTLE  JOHN   BOTTLEJOHN. 

LITTLE  John  Bottlejohn  lived  on  the  hill, 

And  a  blithe  little  man  was  he. 
And  he  won  the  heart  of  a  pretty  mermaid 

Who  lived  in  the  deep  blue  sea. 
And  every  evening  she  used  to  sit 

And  sing  on  the  rocks  by  the  sea, 
"Oh!  little  John  Bottlejohn,  pretty  John  Bottlejohn, 

Won't  you  come  out  to  me  ? " 


LITTLE    JOHN   BOTTLEJOHN.  39 

Little  John  Bottlejohn  heard  her  song, 

And  he  opened  his  little  door. 
And  he  hopped  and  he  skipped,  and  he  skipped  and  he  hopped, 

Until  he  came  down  to  the  shore. 
And  there  on  the  rocks  sat  the  little  mermaid, 

And  still  she  was  singing  so  free, 
"  Oh !  little  John  Bottlejohn,  pretty  John  Bottlejohn, 

Won't  you  come  out  to  me  ? " 

Little  John  Bottlejohn  made  a  bow, 

And  the  mermaid,  she  made  one  too, 
And  she  said,  "  Oh !    I  never  saw  any  one  half 

So  perfectly  sweet  as  you ! 
In  my  lovely  home  'neath  the  ocean  foam, 

How  happv^  we  both  might  be ! 
Oh  !  little  John  Bottlejohn,  pretty  John  Bottlejohn, 

Won't  you  come  down  with  me  ?  " 

Little  John  Bottlejohn  said,  "  Oh  yes ! 

I  '11  willingly  go  with  you. 
And  I  never  shall  quail  at  the  sight  of  your  tail, 

For  perhaps  I  may  grow  one  too." 
So  he  took  her  hand,  and  he  left  the  land, 

And  plunged  in  the  foaming  main. 
And  little  John  Bottlejohn,  pretty  John  Bottlejohn, 

Never  was  seen  again. 


40  IN   MY   NURSERY. 


JEMIMA   BROWN. 

i. 

BRING  her  here,  iny  little  Alice, 

Poor  Jemima  Brown ! 
Make  the  little  cradle  ready! 

Softly  lay  her  down ! 
Once  she  lived  in  ease  and  comfort, 

Slept  on  couch  of  down ; 
Now  upon  the  floor  she  's  lying, 

Poor  Jemima  Brown  ! 

n. 

Once  she  was  a  lovely  dolly, 

Rosy-cheeked  and  fair, 
With  her  eyes  of  brightest  azure 

And  her  golden  hair; 
Now,  alas  !  no  hair 's  remaining 

On  her  poor  old  crown  ; 
And  the  crown  itself  is  broken, 

Poor  Jemima  Brown ! 

m. 
Once  her  legs  were  smooth  and  comely, 

And  her  nose  was  straight ; 
And  that  arm,  now  hanging  lonely, 

Had,  methinks,  a  mate. 


JEMIMA    BROWN.  41 

And  she  was  as  finely  dressed  as 

Any  doll  in  town. 
Now  she 's  old,  forlorn,  and  ragged, 

Poor  Jemima  Brown ! 

IV. 

Yet  be  kind  to  her,  my  Alice ; 

'Tis  no  fault  of  hers 
If  her  wilful  little  mistress 

Other  dolls  prefers. 
Did  she  pull  her  pretty  hair  out? 

Did  she  break  her  crown  ? 
Did  she  pull  her  arms  and  legs  off, 

Poor  Jemima  Brown? 

v. 
Little  hands  that  did  the  mischief, 

You  must  do  your  best 
Now  to  give  the  poor  old  dolly 

Comfortable  rest. 
So  we  '11  make  the  cradle  ready, 

And  we  '11  lay  her  down ; 
And  we'll  ask  Papa  to  mend  her, 

Poor  Jemima  Brown ! 


42 


IN  MY   NURSERY. 


ALICE'S   SUPPER. 

FAR  down  in  the  meadow  the  wheat  grows  green, 
And  the  reapers  are  whetting  their  sickles  so  keen  ; 
And  this  is  the  song  that  I  hear  them  sing, 
While  cheery  and  loud  their  voices  ring  : 
"  'T  is  the  finest  wheat  that  ever  did  grow  ! 
And  it  is  for  Alice's  supper,  ho !  ho !  " 


Far  down  in  the  valley  the  old  mill  stands, 
And  the  miller  is  rubbing  his  dusty  white  hands ; 
And  these  are  the  words  of  the  miller's  lay, 
As  he  watches  the  millstones  a-grinding  away : 
"  'T  is  the  finest  flour  that  money  can  buy, 
And  it  is  for  Alice's  supper,  hi !  hi ! " 


ALICE'S    SUPPER. 


Downstairs  in  the  kitchen  the  fire  doth  glow, 
And  Maggie  is  kneading  the  soft  white  dough, 
And  this  is  the  song  that  she  's  singing  to-day, 
While  merry  and  busy  she's  working  away: 
"Tis  the  finest  dough,  by  near  or  by  far, 
And  it  is  for  Alice's  supper,  ha !  ha ! " 


44  IN  MY   NURSERY. 

And  now  to  the  nursery  comes  Nannie  at  last, 

And  what  in  her  hand  is  she  bringing  so  fast? 

'Tis  a  plate  full  of  something  all  yellow  and  white, 

And  she  sings  as  she  comes  with  her  smile  so  bright 
"  'T  is  the  best  bread-and-butter  I  ever  did  see ! 

And  it  is  for  Alice's  supper,  he  !  he ! " 


TODDLEKINS.  45 


TODDLEKINS. 

BUTTERFLY, 

Flutter  by, 

Through  the  summer  air ; 

Roses  bloom, 

Sweet  perfume 

Shedding  everywhere; 

Robins  sing, 

Bluebells  ring 

Greeting  to  my  dear, 

When  her  sweet 

Tiny  feet 

Bring  her  toddling  here. 

Pitapat ! 

Little  fat 

Funny  baby  toes ! 

Do  not  stumble, 

Or  she  '11  tumble 

On  her  baby  nose. 

Closer  cling, 

Little  thing, 

To  your  mother's  side, 

Baby  mine, 

Fair  and  fine, 

Mother's  joy  and  pride. 


40  IN   MY   NURSERY, 


BOBBILY   BOO   AND   WOLLYPOTUMP. 

BOBBILY  Boo,  the  king  so  free, 

He  used  to  drink  the  Mango  tea. 

Mango  tea  and  coffee,  too, 

He  drank  them  both  till  his  nose  turned  blue. 

Wollypotump,  the  queen  so  high, 

She  used  to  eat  the  Gumbo  pie. 

Gumbo  pie  and  Gumbo  cake, 

She  ate  them  both  till  her  teeth  did  break. 

Bobbily  Boo  and  Wollypotump, 
Each  called  the  other  a  greedy  frump. 
And  when  these  terrible  words  were  said, 
They  sat  and  cried  till  they  both  were  dead. 


SLEEPYLAND. 

BABY  's  been  in  Sleepyland, 
Over  the  hills,  over  the  hills. 
Baby's  been  in  Sleepyland 
All  tke  rainy  morning. 
From  the  cradle  where  she  lay, 
Up  she  jumped  and  flew  away, 
For  Sleepyland  is  bright  and  gay 
Every  rainy  morning. 


SLEEPYLAND.  47 

What  did  you  see  in  Sleepyland, 
Baby  littlest,  Baby  prettiest  ? 
What  did  you  see  in  Sleepyland, 
All  the  rainy  morning? 
Saw  the  sun  that  shone  so  twinkily, 
Saw  the  grass  that  waved  so  crinkily, 
Saw  the  brook  that  flowed  so  tinkily, 
All  the  lovely  morning. 

What  did  you  hear  in  Sleepyland, 
Over  the  hills,  over  the  hills  ? 
What  did  you  hear  in  Sleepyland, 
All  the  rainy  morning  ? 
Heard  the  winds  that  wooed  so  wooingly, 
Heard  the  doves  that  cooed  so  cooingly, 
Heard  the  cows  that  mooed  so  mooingly, 
All  the  lovely  morning. 

What  did  you  do  in  Sleepyland, 
Baby  littlest,  Baby  prettiest? 
What  did  you  do  in  Sleepyland, 
All  the  rainy  morning  ? 
Sang  a  song  with  a  blue  canary, 
Danced  a  dance  with  a  golden  fairy, 
Rode  about  on  a  cinnamon  beary, 
All  the  lovely  morning. 

Would  I  could  go  to  Sleepyland, 

Over  the  hills,  over  the  hills  ; 

Would  I  could  go  to  Sleepyland, 

Every  rainy  morning. 

But  to  Sleepyland,  as  I  have  been  told, 

No  one  may  go  after  three  years  old, 

So  poor  old  Mammy  stays  out  in  the  cold, 

Every  rainy  morning. 


48 


MY   NURSERY. 


PHIL'S    SECfiET.  49 


PHIL'S   SECRET. 

I  KNOW  a  little  girl, 
But  I  won't  tell  who! 
Her  hair  is  of  the  gold, 
And  her  eyes  are  of  the  blue. 
Her  smile  is  of  the  sweet, 
And  her  heart  is  of  the  true. 
Such  a  pretty  little  girl !  — 
But  I  won't  tell  who. 

I  see  her  every  day, 
But  I  won't  tell  where ! 
It  may  be  in  the  lane, 
By  the  thorn-tree  there. 
It  may  be  in  the  garden, 
By  the  rose-beds  fair. 
Such  a  pretty  little  girl !  — 
But  1  won't  tell  where. 

I'll  marry  her  some  day, 
But  I  won't  tell  when! 
The  very  smallest  boys 
Make  the  very  biggest  men. 
When  I'm  as  tall  as  father, 
You  may  ask  about  it  then. 
Such  a  pretty  little  girl!  — 
But  I  won't  tell  when. 

4 


50  IF  MY   NURSERY. 


A   SONG  FOR   HAL. 

ONCE  I  saw  a  little  boat,  and  a  pretty,  pretty  boat, 
When  daybreak  the  hills  was  adorning, 
And  into  it  I  jumped,  and  away  I  did  float, 
So  very,  very  early  in  the  morning. 

Chorus.     And  every  little  wave  had  its  nightcap  on, 
Its  nightcap,  white  cap,  nightcap  on. 
And  every  little  wave  had  its  nightcap  on, 
So  very,  very  early  in  the  morning. 

All  the  fishes  were  asleep  in  their  caves  cool  and  deep, 
When  the  ripple  round  my  keel  flashed  a  warning. 
Said  the  minnow  to  the  skate,  "  We  must  certainly  be  late, 
Though  I  thought  'twas  very  early  in  the  morning." 

Chorus.     For  every  little  wave  has  its  nightcap  on, 
Its  nightcap,  white  cap,  nightcap  on. 
For  every  little  wave  has  its  nightcap  on, 
So  very,  very  early  in  the  morning. 

The  lobster  darkly  green  soon  appeared  upon  the  scene, 
And  pearly  drops  his  claws  were  adorning. 
Quoth  he,  "May  I  be  boiled,  if  I'll  have  my  slumber  spoiled, 
So  very,  very  early  in  the  morning ! " 

Chorus.     For  every  little  wave  has  its  nightcap  on, 
Its  nightcap,  white  cap,  nightcap  on, 
For  every  little  wave  has  its  nightcap  on, 
So  very,  very  early  in  the  morning. 


THE  FAIRIES.  51 

Said  the  sturgeon  to  the  eel,  "Just  imagine  how  I  feel, 
Thus  roused  without  a  syllable  of  warning. 
People  ought  to  let  us  know  when  a-sailing  they  would  go, 
So  very,  very  early  in  the  morning." 

Chorus.     When  every  little  wave  has  its  nightcap  on, 
Its  nightcap,  white  cap,  nightcap  on. 
When  every  little  wave  has  its  nightcap  on, 
So  very,  very  early  in  the  morning. 

Just  then  up  jumped  the  sun,  and  the  fishes  every  one 

For  their  laziness  at  once  fell  a-mourning. 

But  I  stayed  to  hear  no  more,  for  my  boat  had  reached  the  shore, 

So  very,  very  early  in  the  morning. 

Chorus.     And  every  little  wave  took  its  nightcap  off, 
Its  nightcap,  white  cap,  nightcap  off. 
And  every  little  wave  took  its  nightcap  off, 
And  courtesied  to  the  sun  in  the  morning. 


THE   FAIRIES. 

Is  it  true,  my  mother  ? 
Can  it  really  be, 
That  the  little  fairies 
Every  day  you  see  ? 
Oh !  the  little  fairies, 
Wonderful  and  wise, 
Have  you  really  seen  them 
With  your  own  two  eyes? 


52  AY  MY   NURSERY. 

Tell  me  where  their  home  is, 

Dearest  mother  mine. 

Is  it  in  the  garden 

'Neath  the  clustering  vine  ? 

Is  it  in  the  meadow, 

'Mid  the  grasses  tall  ? 

Is  it  by  the  brookside, 

Sweetest  place  of  all  ? 

Deep  within  the  woodland, 
Shall  I  find  them  then,  — 
Pretty  little  maidens, 
Pretty  little  men  ; 
Curled  among  the  roseleaves, 
Stretched  along  the  fern, 
Where  no  wind  can  shake  them, 
And  no  sunbeams  burn  ? 

Does  the  little  queen  live 
In  a  great  red  rose, 
Twenty  elves  to  fan  her 
When  to  sleep  she  goes  ; 
Coverlet  of  lilies 
Sprinkled  o'er  with  pearls, 
Golden  stars  a-twinkling 
In  her  golden  curls  ? 

Do  they  paint  the  flowers  ? 

Do  they  teach  the  birds 

All  their  lovely  music, 

With  its  strange,  sweet  words  ? 

Oh !  but  tell  me,  mother  ! 

Is  it  really  true  ? 

And  when  next  you  seek  them, 

Will  you  take  me  too  ? 


! 


THE    FAIRIES.  53 

True  it  is,  my  darling. 
True  as  true  can  be, 
That  the  little  fairies 
Every  day  I  see, 
Not  within  the  meadow, 
Not  in  woodland  gloom, 
But  in  brightest  sunshine, 
In  this  very  room. 

Singing  like  the  robin, 
Chirping  like  the  wren, 
Pretty  little  maidens, 
Pretty  little  men  ; 
Leaning  o'er  my  shoulder, 
Swinging  on  my  chair, 
Oh  !  the  little  fairies, 
I  see  them  everywhere. 

Peeping  at  the  window, 
Peeping  at  the  door, 
If  I  bid  them  scamper, 
Peeping  all  the  more. 
Little  sweetest  voices 
Laughing  merrily, 
Oh !  the  little  fairies, 
They  '11  never  let  me  be.     , 

Tugging  at  my  apron, 
Twitching  at  my  gown, 
Climbing  up  into  my  lap, 
Rumble-tumbling  down. 
Naughty  little  blue  eyes, 
Full  of  impish  glee, 
Oh  !  the  little  fairies, 
They  '11  never  let  me  be  ! 


54  IN   MY  NURSERY. 

All  are  kings  and  queens,  dear, 

Every  smallest  one ; 

And  on  mother's  knee  here 

Is  their  regal  throne. 

Look  into  the  glass,  dear  ! 

One  of  them  you'll  see. 

Oh  !  the  little  fairies, 

God  bless  them  all  for  me ! 


OH  !  the  Queen  of  the  Orkney  Islands, 
She  's  travelling  over  the  sea  : 
She  's  bringing  a  beautiful  cuttlefish, 
To  play  with  my  baby  and  me. 

Oh !  his  head  is  three  miles  long,  my  dear, 
His  tail  is  three  miles  short. 
And  when  he  goes  out  he  wriggles  his  snout, 
In  a  way  that  no  cuttlefish  ought. 

Oh  !  the  Queen  of  the  Orkney  Islands, 
She  rides  on  a  sea-green  whale. 
He  takes  her  a  mile,  with  an  elegant  smile, 
At  every  flip  of  his  tail. 

He  can  snuffle  and  snore  like  a  Highlandman, 
And  swear  like  a  Portugee  ; 
He  can  amble  and  prance  like  a  peer  of  France, 
And  lie  like  a  heathen  Chinee. 


QUEEN   OF  THE   ORKNEY   ISLANDS. 


56  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

Oh!  the  Queen  of  the  Orkney  Islands, 
She  dresses  in  wonderful  taste. 
The  sea-serpent  coils,  all  painted  in  oils, 
Around  her  bee-yu-tiful  waist. 

Oh !  her  gown  is  made  of  the  green  sea-kale ; 
And  though  she  knows  nothing  of  feet, 
She  can  manage  her  train,  with  an  air  of  disdain, 
In  a  way  that  is  perfectly  sweet. 

Oh !  the  Queen  of  the  Orkney  Islands, 

She's  travelling  over  the  main. 

So  we  '11  hire  a  hack,  and  we  '11  take  her  straight  back 

To  her  beautiful  Islands  a^ain. 


BABY'S   WAYS. 

TODDLE,  toddle,  waddle,  waddle, 
On  her  little  pinky  toes. 
Stumble,  stumble,  pitch  and  tumble, 
That's  the  way  the  baby  goes. 

Prattle,  prattle,  rattle,  rattle, 
Little  shouts  and  little  shrieks, 
Tears,  with  laughter  coming  after, 
That's  the  way  the  baby  speaks. 

Playing,  toying,  still  enjoying 
Every  sweet  that  Nature  gives. 
Smiling,  weeping,  waking,  sleeping, 
That's  the  way  the  baby  lives. 


POT   AND    KETTLE. 


57 


POT  AND   KETTLE. 

[To  be  read  to  little  boys  and  girls  who  quarrel  with  each  other.'] 

"Ono!  Oho!"    said  the  pot  to  the  kettle, 

"  You  're  dirty  and  ugly  and  black  ! 
Sure  no  one  would  think  you  were  made  of  metal, 

Except  when  you're  given  a  crack." 

"Not  so!  not  so!"  kettle  said  to  the  pot. 

"  'T  is  your  own  dirty  image  you  see. 
For  I  am  so  clear,  without  blemish  or  blot, 

That  your  blackness  is  mirrored  in  me." 


58  -£#"   MY   NURSERY. 


PUNKYDOODLE   AND   JOLLAPIN. 

OH,  Pillykin  Willykin  Winky  Wee! 

How  does  the  Emperor  take  his  tea  ? 

He  takes  it  with  melons,  he  takes  it  with  milk, 

He  takes  it  with  syrup  and  sassafras  silk. 

He  takes  it  without,  he  takes  it  within. 

Oh,  Pimkydoodle  and  Jollapin ! 

Oh,  Pillykin  Willykin  Winky  WTee! 

How  does  the  Cardinal  take  his  tea  ? 

He  takes  it  in  Latin,  he  takes  it  in  Greek, 

He  takes  it  just  seventy  times  in  the  week. 

He  takes  it  so  strong  that  it  makes  him  grin. 

Oh,  Punkydoodle  and  Jollapin ! 

Oh,  Pillykin  Willykin  Winky  Wee! 

How  does  the  Admiral  take  his  tea  ? 

He  takes  it  with  splices,  he  takes  it  with  spars, 

He  takes  it  with  jokers  and  jolly  jack  tars. 

And  he  stirs  it  round  with  a  dolphin's  fin. 

Oh,  Punkydoodle  and  Jollapin ! 

Oh,  Pillykin  Willykin  Winky  Wee! 

How  does  the  President  take  his  tea? 

He  takes  it  in  bed,  he  takes  it  in  school, 

He  takes  it  in  Congress  against  the  rule. 

He  takes  it  with  brandy,  and  thinks  it  no  sin. 

Oh,  Pimkydoodle  and  Jollapin! 


MRS.    SNIPKIN  AND    MRS.    WOBBLECHIN. 


59 


MRS.   SNIPKIN   AND   MRS.   WOBBLECHIN. 

SKINNY  Mrs.  Snipkin, 

With  her  little  pipkin, 
Sat  by  the  fireside  a-warming  of  her  toes. 

Fat  Mrs.  Wobblechin, 

With  her  little  doublechin, 
Sat  by  the  window  a-cooling  of  her  nose. 

Says  this  one  to  that  one, 

"  Oh  !   you  silly  fat  one, 
Will  you  shut  the  window  down  ?  You  're  freezing  me  to  death ! " 

Says  that  one  to  t'other  one, 

"  Good  gracious,  how  you  bother  one  ! 
There  is  n't  air  enough  for  me  to  draw  my  precious  breath ! " 


60  /JV   MY   NURSERY. 

Skinny  Mrs.  Snipkin, 

Took  her  little  pipkin, 
Threw  it  straight  across  the  room  as  hard  as  she  could  throw ; 

Hit  Mrs.  Wobblechin 

On  her  little  doublechin, 
And  out  of  the  window  a-tumble  she  did  go. 


MY  SUNBEAMS.  61 


MY   SUNBEAMS. 

OH,  what  shall  we  do  for  the  Lovely 

This  rainy,  rainy  day  ? 
Oh  !  how  shall  we  make  the  baby  laugh, 

When  everything 's  dull  and  gray  ? 

The  sun  has  gone  on  a  picnic, 

The  moon  has  gone  to  bed, 
The  tiresome  sky  does  nothing  but  cry, 

As  if  its  best  friend  were  dead. 

Come  hither,  come  hither,  my  Sunbeams ! 

Come  one,  and  two,  and  three ; 
And  now  in  a  trice  we'll  have  the  room 

As  sunny  as  sunny  can  be. 

Come,  dimpling,  dimpling  Dumpling, 

Come,  Rosy,  Posy  Rose, 
Come,  little  boy  Billy  a-toddling  round 

On  little  fat  tottering  toes. 

Now  twinkle,  now  twinkle,  my  Sunbeams ! 

Now  twinkle  and  laugh  and  dance, 
And  brush  me  the  gloom  straight  out  of  the  room, 

Nor  leave  it  the  ghost  of  a  chance. 

Aha!  see  the  Lovely  smile  now! 

Aha!  see  her  jump  and  crow! 
As  round  and  round,  with  laugh  and  dance, 

My  three  merry  Sunbeams  go. 


62  IN   MY  NURSERY. 

And  who  cares  now  for  the  raindrops  ? 

Who  cares  for  the  gloomy  day, 
When  each  little  heart  is  doing  its  part 

To  make  us  all  glad  and  gay  ? 

You  moon,  you  may  stay  in  bed  now ; 

You  sun,  you  may  wander  and  roam ; 
And  cry  away,  cry,  you  tiresome  sky ! 

We  've  plenty  of  sunshine  at  home ! 


IN   THE   CLOSET. 

THEY'VE  took  away  the  ball, 

Oh  dear ! 
And  I'll  never  get  it  back, 

I  fear. 

And  now  they  've  gone  away, 
And  left  me  for  to  stay 
All  alone  the  livelong  day, 

In  here. 

It  was  my  ball,  anyhow, 

Not  his : 
For  he  never  had  a  ball 

Like  this. 

Such  a  coward  you'll  not  see, 
E'en  if  you  should  live  to  be 
Old  as  Deuteronomy, 

As  he  is. 


IN    THE    CLOSET.  63 

I  'm  sure  I  meant  no  harm, 

None  at  all ! 
I  just  held  out  my  hand 

For  the  ball, 

And  —  somehow  —  it  hit  his  head. 
Then  his  nose  it  went  and  bled, 
And  as  if  I  'd  killed  him  dead 

He  did  bawl. 

Mother  said  I  was  a  naughty 

Little  wretch. 
And  Aunt  Jane  said  the  police 

She  would  fetch. 

And  that  nurse,  who 's  always  glad 
Of  a  chance  to  make  me  mad, 
Said,  "  indeed  she  never  had 

Seen  sech ! " 

No !  I  never,  never  will 

Be  good ! 
I'll  go  and  be  a  babe 

In  the  wood. 
I  '11  run  away  to  sea, 
And  a  pirate  I  will  be. 
Then  they  '11  never  dare  call  me 

Rough  and  rude. 

How  hungry  I  am  getting ! 

Let  me  see ! 
I  wonder  what  they  're  going  to  have 

For  tea. 

Of  course  there  will  be  jam  — 
And  —  oh!  that  potted  ham! 
flow  unfortunate  I  am ! 

Pear  me ! 


64  IN   MY  NUfiSEEY. 

Oh!  it's  growing  very  dark 

In  here. 
And  that  shadow  in  the  corner 

Looks  so  queer ! 

Won't  they  bring  ine  any  light  ? 
Must  I  stay  in  here  all  night  ? 
I  shall  surely  die  of  fright. 

Oh  dear! 

Mother,  darling,  will  you  never 

Come  back? 
Oh  !  I'm  sorry  that  I  hit  him 

Such  a  crack! 

Hark  !  yes,  't  is  her  voice  I  hear ! 
Now  good-by  to  every  fear ! 
For  she  's  calling  me  her  dear 

Little  Jack ! 


BED-TIME. 

How  many  toes  has  the  tootsey  foot  ? 
One,  two,  three,  four,  five. 
Shut  them  all  up  in  the  little  red  sock, 
Snugger  than  bees  in  a  hive. 

How  many  fingers  has  little  wee  hand  ? 
Four,  and  a  little  wee  thumb. 
Shut  them  up  under  the  bedclothes  tight, 
For  fear  that  Jack  Frost  should  come. 

How  many  eyes  has  the  Baby  Bo  ? 
Two,  so  shining  and  bright. 
Shut  them  up  under  the  little  white  lids, 
And  kiss  them  a  loving  good-night. 


BIRD-SONG.  65 


BIRD-SONG. 

SWEET  !  sweet !  sweet !  sweet ! 

Sing  we  in  the  morning, 
Sending  up  to  heaven's  blue  our  happy  waking  song; 

Daily,  gayly,  our  tiny  home  adorning, 
Working  all  so  merrily  the  whole  day  long. 

Sweet !  sweet !  sweet !   sweet ! 

Sing  we  in  the  noontide ; 
Half  the  day  is  over  now,  half  our  work  is  done; 

Neatly,  featly,  the  moss  and  twigs  are  blended, 
.Feather,  flower,  leaf,  and  stems,  all  added  one  by  one. 

Sweet!  sweet!  sweet!  sweet! 

Sing  we  in  the  evening; 
Happy  day  is  past,  past,  happy  night  begun ; 

Wooing,  cooing,  we  nestle  'mid  the  branches, 
•Sinking  down  to  rest  with  the  sinking  of  the  sun. 

Soft,  soft,  soft,  soft, 

Sleep  we  through  the  still  night ; 
Tiny  head  'neath  tiny  wing  comfortably  curled, 

Singing,  springing,  with  the  breath  of  morning. 
Waking  up  once  more  to  all  the  wonder  of  the  world. 


66 


IN  MY   NURSERY. 


GEOGRAPHI. 

[AiR :  There  icas  a  maid  in  my 
countree.~] 

THERE  was  a  man  in  Mani 
toba, 

The  only  man  that  ever  was 
thar  ; 

His  name  was  Nicholas  Jones 
McGee, 

And  he  loved  a  maid  in  Miri- 
michi. 

Chorus. 

Sing  ha !  ha !  ha !  for  Mani 
toba! 

Sing  he  !  he  !  he  !  for  Miri- 
michi ! 

Sing  hi !  hi !  hi !  for  Geo- 
graphi ! 

And  that's  the  lesson  for 
you  and  me. 


GEOGEAPHI. 


67 


There  was  a  man  in  New  Mex 
ico, 

He  lost  his  grandmother  out  in 
the  snow ; 

But  his  heart  was  light,  and 
his  ways  were  free, 

So  he  bought  him  another  in 
Santa  Fe*. 

Chorus. 

Sing  ho  !  ho !  ho !  for  New  Mex 
ico  ! 

Sing  he  !  he  !  he !  for  Santa  F<5 ! 

Sing  hi !  hi !  hi !  for  Geographi ! 

And  that's  the  lesson  for  you 
and  me. 


There  was  a  man  in  Aus- 

tra-li-a, 
He  sat  and   wept  on   the 

new-mown  hay ; 
He  jumped  on  the  toil   of 

a  kangaroo, 
And  rode  till  he  came  to 

Kalamazoo. 


68  IN   MY  NURSERY. 

Chorus.     Sing  hey !  hey  !  hey !  for  Austra-li-a ! 
Sing  hoo !  hoo !  hoo !  for  Kalamazoo  ! 
Sing  hi !  hi !  hi !  for  Geographi ! 
And  that's  the  lesson  for  me  and  you. 


There  was  a  man  in  Jiggerajum, 

He  went  to  sea  in  a  kettle-drum ; 

He  sailed  away  to  the  Salisbury  Shore, 

And  I  never  set  eyes  on  that  man  any  more. 

Chorus.     Sing  hum  !  hum  !  hum  !  for  Jiggerajum  ! 

Sing  haw !  haw !  haw !  for  the  Salisbury  Shore ! 

Sing  hi !  hi !  hi !  for  Geographi ! 

And  that's  the  lesson  the  whole  world  o'er. 


HIGGLEDY-PIGGLEDY.  69 


HIGGLEDY-PIGGLEDY. 

HIGGLEDY-PIGGLEDY  went  to  school, 
Looking  so  nice  and  neat ! 
Clean  little  mittens  on  clean  little  hands, 
Clean  little  shoes  on  his  feet. 
Jacket  and  trousers  all  nicely  brushed, 
Collar  and  cuffs  like  snow. 
"  See  that  you  come  home  as  neat  to-night, 
Higgledy-piggledy  oh ! " 

Higgledy-piggledy  came  from  school, 

In  such  a  woful  plight, 

All  the  people  he  met  on  the  road 

Ran  screaming  away  with  fright. 

One  shoe  gone  for  ever  and  aye, 

T'other  one  stiff  with  mud, 

Dirt-spattered  jacket  half  torn  from  his  back, 

Mittens  both  lost  in  the  wood. 

Higgledy-piggledy  stayed  in  bed 

All  a  long,  pleasant  day, 

While  his  father  fished  for  his  other  boot 

In  the  roadside  mud  and  clay. 

All  day  long  his  mother  must  mend, 

Wash  and  iron  and  sew, 

Befoie  she  can  make  him  fit  to  be  seen, 

Higgledy-piggledy  oh! 


70  IN   MY   NURSERY. 


BELINDA   BLONDE. 

BELINDA  BLONDE  was  a  beautiful  doll, 
With  rosy-red  cheeks  and  a  flaxen  poll. 
Her  lips  were  red,  and  her  eyes  were  blue, 
But  to  say  she  was  happy  would  not  be  true  ; 
For  she  pined  for  love  of  the  great  big  Jack 
Who  lived  in  the  Box  so  grim  and  black. 

She  never  had  looked  on  the  Jack  his  face  ; 
But  she  fancied  it  shining  with  beauty  and  grace, 
And  all  the  day  long  she  would  murmur  and  pout, 
Because  Jack-in-the-box  would  never  come  out. 

"  Oh,  beautiful,  beautiful  Jack-in-the-box, 
Undo  your  bolts  and  undo  your  locks ! 
The  cupboard  is  shut,  and  there  's  no  one  about : 
Oh  !  Jack-in-the-box,  jump  out !  jump  out !  " 

But  alas !  alas !  for  Belinda  Blonde, 
And  alas  !  alas !  for  her  dreamings  fond. 
There  soon  was  an  end  to  all  her  doubt, 
For  Jack-in-the-box  really  did  jump  out,  — 

Out  with  a  crash  and  out  with  a  spring, 
Half  black  and  half  scarlet,  a  horrible  thing. 
Out  with  a  yell  and  a  shriek  and  a  shout, 
His  great  goggle-eyes  glaring  wildly  about. 


TOMMY'S    DREAM;     OR,    THE    GEOGRAPHY  DEMON.      71 

"  And  what  did  Belinda  do  ?  "  you  say. 

Alas  !  before  she  could  get  out  of  the  way, 

The  monster  struck  her  full  on  the  head, 

And  with  pain  and  with  terror  she  fell  down  dead. 

MORAL. 

Now  all  you  dolls,  both  little  and  big, 
With  china  crown  and  with  curling  wig, 
Before  you  give  way  to  affection  fond, 
Remember  the  fate  of  Belinda  Blonde  ! 
And  unless  you're  fond  of  terrible  knocks, 
Don't  set  your  heart  on  a  Jack-in-the-box! 


TOMMY'S  DREAM;  OR,  THE  GEOGRAPHY  DEMON. 

I  HATE  my  geography  lesson ! 

It 's  nothing  but  nonsense  and  names. 

To  bother  me  so  every  Thursday, 

I  think  it's  the  greatest  of  shames. 

The  brooklets  flow  into  the  rivers, 

The  rivers  flow  into  the  sea; 

For  my  part,  I  hope  they  enjoy  it ! 

But  what  does  it  matter  to  me  ? 

Of  late  even  more  I've  disliked  it, 

More  thoroughly  odious  it  seems, 

Ever  since  that  sad  night  of  last  winter, 

When  I  had  that  most  frightful  of  dreams. 

I'd  studied  two  hours  that  evening, 

On  mountains  and  rivers  and  lakes; 


72  AV   3/r   NURSERY. 

"When  I  'd  promised  to  go  down  to  Grandpa's, 

For  one  of  Aunt  Susan's  plum-cakes. 

She  sent  me  one,  though,  and  I  ate  it 

On  the  stairs,  before  going  to  bed ; 

And  those  stupid  old  mountains  and  rivers 

Were  dancing  all  night  through  my  head. 

I  dreamed  that  a  horrible  monster 

Came  suddenly  into  my  room, — 

A  frightful  Geography  Demon, 

Enveloped  in  darkness  and  gloom. 

His  body  and  head  like  a  mountain, 

A  volcano  on  top  for  hat; 

His  arms  and  his  legs  were  like  rivers, 

With  a  brook  round  his  neck  for  cravat. 

He  laid  on  my  trembling  shoulder 

His  lingers  cold,  clammy,  and  long; 

And  rolling  his  red  eyes  upon  me, 

He  roared  out  this  horrible  song :  — 

"  Come  !  come  !  rise  and  come 
Away  to  the  banks  of  the  Muskingum ! 
It  rolls  o'er  the  plains  of  Timbuctoo, 
With  the  Peak  of  Teneriffe  just  in  view ; 
And  the  cataracts  leap  in  the  pale  moonshine, 
As  they  dance  o'er  the  cliffs  of  Brandywine. 

"  Flee  !  flee  !  rise  and  flee 
Away  to  the  banks  of  the  Tombigbee ! 
We  '11  pass  by  Alaska's  flowery  strand, 
Where  the  emerald  towers  of  Pekin  stand  ; 
We'll  pass  it  by,  and  we'll  rest  awhile 
On  Michillimackinack's  tropic  isle  ; 
While  the  apes  of  Barbary  frisk  around, 
And  the  parrots  crow  with  a  lovely  sound. 


TOMMY'S    DEE  AM;     OR,    THE    GEOGRAPHY  DEMON.      73 

"  Hie  !  hie  !  rise  and  hie 
Away  to  the  banks  of  the  Yang-tse-kai ! 
There  the  giant  mountains  of  Oshkosh  stand, 
And  the  icebergs  gleam  through  the  shifting  sand ; 
While  the  elephant  sits  in  the  palm-tree  high, 
And  the  cannibal  feasts  upon  bad-boy  pie. 

"  Go  !  go !  rise  and  go 
Away  to  the  banks  of  the  Hoang-ho ! 
There  the  Chickasaw  sachem  is  making  his  tea, 
And  the  kettle  boils  and  waits  for  thee. 
I'll  smite  thee,  ho!  and  I'll  lay  thee  low, 
On  the  beautiful  banks  of  the  Hoang-ho ! "  , 

These  terrible  words  were  still  sounding 

Like  trumpets  and  drums  through  my  head, 

When  the  monster  clutched  tighter  my  shoulder, 

And  dragged  me  half  out  of  the  bed. 

In  terror  I  clung  to  the  bedpost, 

But  the  faithless  bedpost  broke ; 

I  screamed  out  aloud  in  my  anguish, 

And  suddenly  —  well  —  I  awoke  ! !  — 

No  monster  —  no  music  —  all  silence, 

Save  mother's  soft  accents  so  mild : 

"  No,  Father,  you  need  not  be  anxious ! 

I  know  now  what  troubles  the  child. 

I'll  give  him  a  little  hot  ginger 

As  soon  as  he 's  fairly  awake ; 

His  frightful  Geography  Demon 

Is  just  his  Aunt  Susan's  plum-cake!" 


74  IN   MY   NURSERY. 


POLLY'S    YEAR. 

JANUARY   1. 

COME  sit  on  my  knee  and  tell  me  here, 

Polly,  my  dear,  Polly,  my  dear, 
What  do  you  mean  to  do  this  year  ? 

I  mean  to  be  good  the  whole  year  long, 
And  never  do  anything  careless  or  wrong; 
1  mean  to  learn  all  my  lessons  right, 
And  do  my  sums,  if  I  sit  up  all  night. 
I  mean  to  keep  all  my  frocks  so  clean, 
Nurse  never  will  say  I'm  "not  fit  to  be  seen." 
I  mean  not  to  break  even  one  of  my  toys, 
And  I  never,  oh !  never  will  make  any  noise. 
In  short,  Uncle  Ned,  as  you  '11  very  soon  see, 
The  best  little  girl  in  the  world  I  shall  be. 

DECEMBER  31. 

Come  sit  on  my  knee  and  let  me  hear, 

Polly,  my  dear,  Polly,  my  dear, 
What  you  have  done  in  the  course  of  the  year. 

Oh  dear  !  Uncle  Ned,  oh  dear !  and  oh  dear ! 

I  'm  afraid  it  has  not  been  a  very  good  year. 

For  somehow  my  sums  would  come  out  wrong, 

And  somehow  my  frocks  would  n't  stay  clean  long. 

And  somehow  I  've  often  been  dreadfully  cross, 

And  somehow  I  broke  my  new  rocking-horse. 

And  somehow  Nurse  says  I  have  made  such  a  noise, 

I  might  just  as  well  have  been  one  of  the  boys. 

In  short,  Uncle  Ned,  I  very  much  fear 

You  must  wait  for  my  goodness  another  year. 


THE    EVE    OF    THE    GLORIOUS    FOURTH.  75 


WHAT   THE   ROBINS   SING  IN  THE  MORNING. 

WAKE  !  wake !  children,  wake  ! 
Here  we  're  singing  for  your  sake, 
Chirrup  !  chirrup  !   chirrup !  chee  ! 
Sweet  a  song  as  sweet  can  be. 

Rise  !   rise  !   children,  rise  ! 
Shake  the  poppies  from  your  eyes. 
Sweet !  sweet !  chirrup !  tweet ! 
Morning  blossoms  at  your  feet. 

Song  and  sweetness,  dawn  and  dew, 
All  are  waiting  now  for  you. 
Wake  !  wake  !  children,  wake  ! 
Here  we're  singing  for  your  sake. 


THE  EVE   OF   THE   GLORIOUS   FOURTH. 


ROBBY  and   Bobby  and  Billy  and  Ned, 

Philip  and  Peter  and  Guy, 
They  vowed,  every  one,  they'd  have  glorious  fun 

On  the  glorious  Fourth  of  July. 
They  spent  all  their  money  on  trumpets  and  drums, 

On  fish-horns  and  pistols  and  guns, 
On  elephant  crackers   (which  they  pronounced  "whackers"), 

On  toffee,  torpedoes,  and  buns. 


76  -EV   MY   NURSERY. 

II. 

Hobby  and  Bobby  and   Billy  and  Ned, 

Philip  and  Peter  and   Guy, 
They  said  with  delight,  "  We  will  sit  up  all  night, 

To  make  ready  for  Fourth  of  July. 
We  will  beat  on  our  drums  till  the  constable  comes, 

And  then  we  will  hasten  away. 
We  will  toot  the  gay  horn  till  the  coming  of  morn, 

The  morn   of  the  glorious  day." 

in. 
Hobby  and  Bobby  and  Billy  and  Ned, 

Philip  and  Peter  and  Guy, 
They  made  such  a  noise  that  the  other  small  boys 

With  envy  were  ready  to  die. 
They  made  such  a  din  that  the  neighbors  within 

With  fury  were  ready  to  choke, 
With  rage  at  the  drumming  and  strumming  and  humming, 

The  pistols  and  powder  and  smoke. 

IV. 

Robby  and  Bobby  and  Billy  and  Ned, 

Philip  and  Peter  and   Guy, 
They  thought  'twould  be  best  for  a  moment  to  rest, 

And  their  toffee  and  buns  for  to  try. 
On  the  steps  of  a  house  they  began  to  carouse, 

And  they  shouted  and  shrieked  in  their  glee, 
As  they  fired  their  guns  and  devoured  their  buns 

In  a  manner  both  frolic  and  free. 


THE    EVE    OF    THE    GLORIOUS    FOURTH.  77 

v. 

Robby  and  Bobby  and  Billy  and  Ned, 

Philip  and  Peter  and  Guy, 
Ah  !  nothing  they  saw  of  the  opening  door, 

Nothing  knew  of  the  peril  so  nigh. 
A  horrid  great  man  with  a  watering-can 

Was  standing  behind  them  so  still, 
And  suddenly  down  on  each  curly  crown 

Its  contents  he  poured  with  a  will. 

VI. 

Robby  and  Bobby  and  Billy  and  Ned, 

Philip  and  Peter  and  Guy, 
With  squeaks  and  with  squeals  did  they  take  to  their  heels, 

While  their  enemy  after  did  fly. 
And  he  beat  them  with  sticks,  and  he  kicked  them  with  kicks, 

And  he  thumped  on  their  heads  with  the  can, 
And  half-way  up  the  street  he  pursued  them  so  fleet, 

Still  thumping  their  heads  as  he  ran. 

VTI. 
Robby  and  Bobby  and  Billy  and  Ned, 

Philip  and  Peter  and  Guy, 
They  said,  every  one,  that  it  wasn't  much  fun 

Getting  ready  for  Fourth  of  July. 
They  crept  to  their  beds  and  they  laid  down  their  heads, 

And  they  slept  till  the  sun  was  on  high, 
And  when  they  awaked,  so  sorely  they  ached, 

That  they  just  could  do  nothing  but  cry. 


IN   MY   NUESERY. 


THE   DANDY   CAT. 

To  Sir  Green-eyes  Grimalkin  de  Tabby  de  Sly 

His  mistress  remarked  one  day, 

"  I  'm  tormented,  my  cat,  both  by  mouse   and  by  rat : 

Come  rid  me  of  them,  I  pray  ! 

"  For  though  you  're  a  cat  of  renowned  descent, 
And  your  kittenhood  's  long  been  gone, 
Yet  never  a  trace  of  the  blood  of  your  race 
In  battle  or  siege  you  've  shown.  " 

Sir  Green-eyes   Grimalkin  de  Tabby  de  Sly 
Arose  from  his  downy  bed. 

He  washed  himself  o'er,  from  his  knightly   paw 
To  the  top  of  his  knightly  head. 

And  he  curled  his  whiskers,  and  combed  his  hair. 
And  put  on  his  perfumed  gloves ; 

And  his  sword  he  girt  on,  which  had  never  been  drawn 
Save  to  dazzle  the  eyes   of  his  loves. 

And  when  he  had  cast  one  admiring  glance 
On  the  looking-glass  tall  and  fair, 
To  the  pantry  he  passed ;   but  he  stood  aghast, 
For  lo !  the  pantry  was  bare ! 

The  pickles,  the  cookies,  the  pies  were  gone ! 
And  naught  remained  on  the  shelf 
Save  the  bone  of  a  ham,  which  lay  cold  and  calm, 
The  ghost  of  its  former  self. 


THE    DANDY   CAT.  79 

Sir  Green-eyes  Grimalkin  stood  sore  dismayed, 
And  he  looked  for  the  mice  and  rats. 
But  they,  every  one,  had  been  long  since  gone 
Far,  far  from  the  reach  of  cats. 

For  while  he  was  donning  his  satin  pelisse, 

And  his  ribbons  and  laces  gay, 

They  had  finished  their  feast,  without  hurry  the  least. 

And  had  tranquilly  trotted  away. 

The  mistress  of  Green-eyes  Grimalkin  de  Sly, 
A  woman  full  stern  was  she. 
She  came  to  the  door,  and  she  rated  him  sore 
When  the  state  of  the  case  she  did  see. 

She  grasped  him,  spite  of  his  knightly  blood, 

By  the  tip  of  his  knightly  tail ; 

His  adornments  she  stripped,  and  his  body  she  dipped 

Three  times  in  the  water-pail. 

She  plunged  him  thrice  'neath  the   icy  flood, 
Then   turned  him  out-doors  to  dry  ; 
And  terror  and  cold  on  his  feelings  so  told, 
That  he  really  was  like  to  die. 

And  now  in  this  world  't  would  be  hard  to  find, 
Although  you  looked  low  and  high, 
A   cat   who  cares   less  for  the  beauties  of  dress 
Than  Sir  Green-eyes  Grimalkin  de  Sly. 


A   PARTY. 

ON  Willy's  birthday,  as  you  see, 
These  little  boys  have   come  to  tea, 
But,  oh  !  how  very  sad  to  tell ! 
They  have  not  been  behaving  well. 
For  ere  they  took  a  single  bite, 
They  all  began  to  scold  and  fight. 

The  little  boy  whose  name  was  Ned, 

He  wanted  jelly  on  his  bread ; 

The  little  boy  whose  name  was  Sam, 

He  vowed  he  would  have  damson  jam ; 

The  little  boy  whose  name  was  Phil 

Said,  "I'll  have  honey!   Yes  —  I  —  WILL!!" 

BUT  — 

The  little   boy  whose  name  was  Paul, 
While  they  were    quarrelling,  ate  it  all. 


JUMBO    JEE.  81 


JUMBO  JEE. 

THERE  were  some  kings,  in  number  three, 
Who  built  the  tower  of  Jumbo  Jee. 
They  built  it  up  to  a  monstrous  height, 
At  eleven  o'clock  on  a  Thursday  night. 

They  built  it  up  for  forty  miles, 
With  mutual  bows  and  pleasing  smiles ; 
And  then  they  sat  on  the  edge  to  rest, 
And  partook  of  lunch  with  a  cheerful  zest. 

And  first  they  ate  of  the  porkly  pie, 
And  wondered  why  they  had  built  so  high; 
And  next  they  drank  of  the  ginger  wine, 
Which  gave  their  noses  a  regal  shine. 

They  drank  to  the  health  of  Jumbo  Jee, 
Until  they  could  neither  hear  nor  see. 
They  drank  to  the  health  of  Jumbo  Land, 
Until  they  could  neither  walk  nor  stand. 

They  drank  to  the  health  of  Jumbo  Tower 
Until  they  really  could  drink  no  more; 
And  then  they  sank  in  a  blissful  swoon, 
And  flung  their  crowns  at  the  rising  moon. 


82  IN   MY   NURSERY. 


AN   INDIAN   BALLAD. 

WHOPSY  WHITTLESEY  WHANKO  WHEE, 

Howly  old,  growly  old  Indian  he, 

Lived  on  the  hills  of  the  Mungo-Paws, 

With  all  his  pappooses  and  all  his  squaws. 

There  was  Wah-wah-bocky,  the  Blue-nosed  Goose, 

And  Ching-gach-gocky,  the  Capering  Moose: 

There  was  Peeksy  Wiggin,  and  Squaw-pan  too, 

But  the  fairest  of  all  was  Michiky  Moo, 

Michiky  Moo,  the  Savory  Tart, 

Pride  of  Whittlesey  Whanko's  heart; 

Michiky  Moo,  the  Cherokee  Pie, 

Apple  of  Whittlesey  Whanko's  eye. 

Whittlesey  Whanko  loved  her  so 

That  the  other  squaws  did  with  envy  glow ; 

And  each  said  to  the  other,  "  Now,  what  shall  we  do 

To  spoil  the  beauty  of  Michiky  Moo  ? " 

"  We  '11  lure  her  away  to  the  mountain  top, 

And  there  her  head  we  will  neatly  chop." 

"  We  '11  wile  her  away  to  the  forest's  heart, 

And  shoot  her  down  with  a  poisoned  dart." 

"  We  '11  lead  her  away  to  the  river-side, 

And  there  she  shall  be  the  Manito's  bride." 

"  Oh !  one  of  these  things  we  will  surely  do, 

And  we  '11  spoil  the  beauty  of  Michiky  Moo." 

"  Michiky  Moo,  thou  Cherokee  Pie, 

Away  with  me  to  the  mountain  high ! " 

"  Nay,  my  sister,  I  will  not  roam. 

I  'm  safer  and  happier  here  at  home." 

"  Michiky  Moo,  thou  Savory  Tart, 

Away  with  me  to  the  forest's  heart ! " 


AN   INDIAN   BALLAD.  83 

"  Nay  !  my  sister,  I  will  not  go ; 

I  fear  the  dart  of  some  hidden  foe." 

"  Michiky  Moo,  old  Whittlesey's  pride, 

Away  with  me  to  the  river-side ! " 

"  Nay !  my  sister,  for  fear  I  fall ! 

And  wouldst  thou  come  if  thou  heardst  me  call  ? " 

"  Now  choose  thee,  choose  thee  thy  way  of  death ! 

For  soon  thou  shalt  draw  thy  latest  breath ! 

We  all  have  sworn  that  this  day  we  '11  see 

The  last,  proud  Michiky  Moo,  of  thee  ! " 

Whittlesey  Whanko,  hidden  near, 

Each  and  all  of  these  words  did  hear. 

He  summoned  his  braves,  all  painted  for  war, 

And  gave  them  in  charge  each  guilty  squaw : 

"  Take  Wah-wah-bocky,  the  Blue-nosed  Goose ; 

Take  Ching-gach-gocky,  the  Capering  Moose; 

Take  Peeksy  Wiggin,  and  Squaw-pan  too, 

And  leave  me  alone  with  my  Michiky  Moo. 

This  one  away  to  the  mountain  top, 

And  there  her  head  ye  shall  neatly  chop ; 

This  one  away  to  the  forest's  heart, 

And  shoot  her  down  with  a  poisoned  dart ; 

This  one  away  to  the  river-side, 

And  there  she  shall  be  the  Manito's  bride ; 

Away  with  them  all,  the  woodlands  through! 

For  I  '11  have  no  squaw  save  Michiky  Moo." 

Away  went  the  braves,  without  question  or  pause, 

And  they  soon  put  an  end  to  the  guilty  squaws. 

They  pleasantly  smiled  when  the  deed  was  done, 

Saying,  "  Ping-ko-chanky  !  oh  !  is  n't  it  fun  ! " 

And  then  they  all  danced  the  Buffalo  dance, 

And  capered  about  with  ambiguous  prance, 

While  they  drank  to  the  health  of  the  lovers  so  true, 

Bold  Whittlesey  Whanko  and  Michiky  Moo. 


84  AV   MY   NURSERY. 


THE   EGG. 

OH  !  how  shall  I  get  it,  how  shall  I  get  it,  — 
A  nice  little  new-laid  egg  ? 

My  grandmamma  toLd  me  to  run  to  the  barn-yard, 
And  see  if  just  one  I  could  beg. 

"  Moolly-cow,  Moolly-cow,  down  in  the  meadow, 
Have  you  any  eggs,  I  pray  ?  " 
The  Moolly-cow  stares  as  if  I  were  crazy, 
And  solemnly  stalks  away. 

"  Oh !  Doggie,  Doggie,  perhaps  you  may  have  it, 
That  nice  little  egg  for  me." 
But  Doggie  just  wags  his  tail  and  capers, 
And  never  an  egg  has  he. 

"Now,  Dobbin,  Dobbin,  I'm  sure  you  must  have  one, 
Hid  down  in  your  manger  there." 
But  Dobbin  lays  back  his  ears  and  whinnies, 
"With  "  Come  and  look,  if  you  dare ! " 

"Piggywig,  Piggy  wig,  grunting  and  squealing, 
Are  you  crying  '  Fresh  eggs  for  sale '  ? " 
No  !     Piggy,  you  're  very  cold  and  unfeeling, 
With  that  impudent  quirk  in  your  tail. 

"  You  wise  old  Gobbler,  you  look  so  knowing, 
I  'm  sure  you  can  find  me  an  egg. 
You  stupid  old  thing !  just  to  say  '  Gobble-gobble ! ' 
And  balance  yourself  on  one  leg." 


WOULDN'T.  85 

Oh!  how  shall  I  get  it,  how  shall  I  get  it, — 
That  little  white  egg  so  small  ? 
I've  asked  every  animal  here  in  the  barn-yard, 
And  they  won't  give  me  any  at  all. 

But  after  I'd  hunted  until  I  was  tired, 

I  found  —  not  one  egg,  but  ten ! 

And  you  never  could  guess  where  they  all  were  hidden,— 

Right  under  our  old  speckled  hen ! 


WOULDN'T. 

SHE  would  n't  have  on  her  naughty  bib ! 

She  would  n't  get  into  her  naughty  crib ! 

She  would  n't  do  this,  and  she  would  n't  do  that, 

And  she  would  put  her  foot  in  her  Sunday  hat. 

She  would  n't  look  over  her  picture-book  ! 
She  would  n't  run  out  to  help  the  cook ! 
She  would  n't  be  petted  or  coaxed  or  teased, 
And  she  would  do  exactly  whatever  she  pleased. 

She  would  n't  have  naughty  rice  to  eat ! 

She  would  n't  be  gentle  and  good  and  sweet ! 

She  would  n't  give  me  one  single  kiss, 

And  pray  what  could  we  do  with  a  girl  like  this? 

We  tickled  her  up,  and  we  tickled  her  down, 
From  her  toddling  toes  to  her  curling  crown. 
And  we  kissed  her  and  tossed  her,  until  she  was  fain 
To  promise  she  would  n't  say  "  would  n't "  again. 


86  IN   MY  NURSERY. 


WILL-O'-THE-WISP. 

"  WILL-O'-THE-WISP  !     Will-o'-the-wisp  ! 

Show  me  your  lantern  true ! 
Over  the  meadow  and  over  the  hill, 

Gladly  I'll  follow  you. 
Never  1  '11  murmur  nor  ask  to  rest, 

And  ever  I  '11  be  your  friend, 
If  you'll  only  give  me  the  pot  of  gold 

That  lies  at  your  journey's  end." 

Will-o'-the-wisp,  Will-o'-the-wisp, 

Lighted  his  lantern  true ; 
Over  the  meadow  and  over  the  hill, 

Away  and  away  he  flew. 
And  away  and  away  went  the  poor  little  boy, 

Trudging  along  so  bold, 
And  thinking  of  naught  but  the  journey's  end, 

And  the  wonderful  pot  of  gold. 

Will-o'-the-wisp,  Will-o'-the-wisp, 

Flew  down  to  a  lonely  swamp ; 
He  put  out  his  lantern  and  vanished  away 

In  the  evening  chill  and  damp. 
And  the  poor  little  boy  went  shivering  home, 

Wet  and  tired  and  cold ; 
He  had  come,  alas !  to  his  journey's  end, 

But  where  was  the  pot  of  gold  ? 


NONSENSE    VERSES.  87 


NONSENSE  VERSES. 

i. 

NICHOLAS  NED, 

He  lost  his  head, 
And  put  a  turnip  on  instead ; 

But  then,  ah  me! 

He  could  not  see, 
So  he  thought  it  was  night,  and  he  went  to  bed. 

n. 

Ponsonby  Perks, 

He  fought  with  Turks, 
Performing  many  wonderful  works ; 

He  killed  over  forty, 

High-minded  and  haughty, 
And  cut  off  their  heads  with  smiles  and  smirks. 

in. 

Winifred  White, 

She  married  a  fright, 
She  called  him  her  darling,  her  duck,  and  delight; 

The  back  of  his  head 

Was  so  lovely,  she  said, 
It  dazzled  her  soul  and  enraptured  her  sight. 


IN   MY   NURSERY. 

IV. 

Harriet  Hutch, 

Her  conduct  was  such, 
Her  uncle  remarked  it  would  conquer  the  Dutch : 

She  boiled  her  new  bonnet, 

And  breakfasted  on  it, 
And  rode  to  the  moon  on  her  grandmother's  crutch. 


AN   OLD   RAT'S   TALE. 

HE  was  a  rat,  and  she  was  a  rat. 
And  down  in  one  hole  they  did  dwell. 
And  each  was  as  black  as  your  Sunday  hat, 
And  they  loved  one  another  well. 

He  had  a  tail,  and  she  had  a  tail ; 

Both  long  and  curling  and  fine. 

And  each  said,  "  My  love's  is  the  finest  tail 

In  the  world,  excepting  mine ! " 

He  smelt  the  cheese,  and  she  smelt  the  cheese, 
And  they  both  pronounced  it  good ; 
And  both  remarked  it  would  greatly  add 
To  the  charms  of  their  daily  food. 

So  he  ventured  out  and  she  ventured  out; 
And  I  saw  them  go  with  pain. 
But  what  them  befell  I  never  can  tell, 
For  they  never  came  back  again. 


TO    THE    LITTLE    GIRL    WHO    WRIGGLES.  89 


TO  THE  LITTLE   GIRL  WHO  WRIGGLES. 

DON'T  wriggle  about  any  more,  my  dear ! 

I  'm  sure  all  your  joints  must  be  sore,  my  dear  1 

It 's  wriggle  and  jiggle,  it 's  twist  and  it 's  wiggle, 

Like  an  eel  on  a  shingly  shore,  my  dear, 

Like  an  eel  on  a  shingly  shore. 

Oh !  how  do  you  think  you  would  feel,  my  dear, 
If  you  should  turn  into  an  eel,  my  dear  ? 
With  never  an  arm  to  protect  you  from  harm, 
And  no  sign  of  a  toe  or  a  heel,  my  dear, 
No  sign  of  a  toe  or  a  heel  ? 

And  what  do  you  think  you  would  do,  my  dear, 

Far  down  in  the  water  so  blue,  my  dear, 

Where  the  prawns  and  the  shrimps,  with  their  curls  and  their  crimps, 

Would  turn  up  their  noses  at  you,  my  dear, 

Would  turn  up  their  noses  at  you  ? 

The  crab  he  would  give  you  a  nip,  my  dear, 
And  the  lobster  would  lend  you  a  clip,  my  dear. 
And  perhaps  if  a  shark  should  come  by  in  the  dark, 
Down  his  throat  you  might  happen  to  slip,  my  dear, 
Down  his  throat  you  might  happen  to  slip. 

Then  try  to  sit  still  on  your  chair,  my  dear ! 
To  your  parents  't  is  no  more  than  fair,  my  dear. 
For  we  really  don't  feel  like  inviting  an  eel 
Our  board  and  our  lodging  to  share,  my  dear, 
Our  board  and  our  lodging  to  share. 


90 


IN  MY   NURSERY. 


[^4  s/or^  jciVA  a  certain  amount  nf  truth  in  &.] 

THE  forty  little  ducklings  who  lived  up  at  the  farm, 
They  said  unto  each  other, ."Oh!  the  day  is  very  warm!" 
They  said  unto  each  other,  "  Oh  !  the  river 's  very  cool ! 
The  duck  who  did  not  seek  it  now  would  surely  be  a  fool." 

The  forty  little  ducklings,  they  started  down  the  road ; 
And  waddle,  waddle,  waddle,  was  the  gait  at  which  they  goed. 
The  same  it  is  not  grammar,  —  you  may  change  it  if  you  choose, 
But  one  cannot  stop  for  trifles  when  inspired  by  the  Muse. 

They  waddled  and  they  waddled  and  they  waddled  on  and  on. 
Till  one  remarked,  "  Oh !  deary  me,  where  is  the  river  gone  ? 
We  asked  the  Ancient  Gander,  and  he  said  'twas  very  near. 
He  must  have  been  deceiving  us,  or  else  himself,  I  fear." 


THE    FORTY  LITTLE    DUCKLINGS.  91 

They  waddled  and  they  waddled,  till  no  further  they  could  go : 
Then  down  upon  a  mossy  bank  they  sat  them  in  a  row. 
They  took  their  little  handkerchiefs  and  wept  a  little  weep, 
And  then  they  put  away  their  heads,  and  then  they  went  to  sleep. 

There  came  along  a  farmer,  with  a  basket  on  his  arm, 
And  all  those  little  duckylings  he  took  back  to  the  farm. 
He  put  them  in  their  little  beds,  and  wished  them  sweet  repose. 
And  fastened  mustard  plasters  on  their  little  webby  toes. 

Next  day  these  little  ducklings,  they  were,  very  very  ill. 

Their  mother  sent  for  Doctor  Quack,  who  gave  them  each  a  pill ; 

But  soon  as  they  recovered,  the  first  thing  that  they  did, 

Was  to  peck  the  Ancient  Grander,  till  he  ran  away  and  hid. 


92  IN   MY   NURSEBY. 


THE   MOUSE. 

I  'M  only  a  poor  little  mouse,  Ma'am. 

I  live  in  the  wall  of  your  house,  Ma'am. 

With  a  fragment  of  cheese, 

And  a  very  few  peas, 

I  was  having  a  little  carouse,  Ma'am. 

No  mischief  at  all  I  intend,  Ma'am. 

I  hope  you  will  act  as  my  friend,  Ma'am. 

If  my  life  you  should  take, 

Many  hearts  it  would  break, 

And  the  mischief  would  be  without  end,  Ma'am. 

My  wife  lives  in  there,  in  the  crack,  Ma'am, 

She  's  waiting  for  me  to  come  back,  Ma'am. 

She  hoped  I  might  find 

A  bit  of  a  rind, 

For  the  children  their  dinner  do  lack,  Ma'am. 

'T  is  hard  living  there  in  the  wall,  Ma'am, 

For  plaster  and  mortar  will  pall,  Ma'am, 

On  the  minds  of  the  young, 

And  when  specially  hung  — 

Ry,  upon  their  poor  father  they  '11  fall,  Ma'am. 

I  never  was  given  to  strife,  Ma'am,  — 

(Don't  look  at  that  terrible  knife,  Ma'am  !) 

The  noise  overhead 

That  disturbs  you  in  bed, 

'T  is  the  rats,  I  will  venture  my  life,  Ma'am. 


A    VALENTINE.  93 

In  your  eyes  I  see  mercy,  I  'm  sure,  Ma'am. 

Oh,  there  's  no  need  to  open  the  door,  Ma'am. 

I  '11  slip  through  the  crack, 

And  I  '11  never  come  back, 

Oh !  I  '11  never  come  back  any  more,  Ma'am ! 


A   VALENTINE. 

OH,  little  loveliest  lady  mine ! 

What  shall  I  send  for  your  valentine  ? 

Summer  and  flowers  are  far  away, 

Gloomy  old  Winter  is  king  to-day, 

Buds  will  not  blow,  and  sun  will  not  shine ; 

What  shall  I  do  for  a  valentine  ? 

Prithee,  Saint  Valentine,  tell  me  here, 
Why  do  you  come  at  this  time  o'  year  ? 
Plenty  of  days  when  lilies  are  white, 
Plenty  of  days  when  sunbeams  are  bright ; 
But  now,  when  everything's  dark  And  drear, 
Why  do  you  come.  Saint  Valentine  dear? 

I've  searched  the  gardens  all  through  and  through, 

For  a  bud  to  tell  of  my  love  so  true ; 

But  buds  are  asleep,  and  blossoms  are  dead, 

And  the  snow  beats  down  on  my  poor  little  head ; 

So,  little  loveliest  lady  mine, 

Here  is  my  heart  for  your  valentine. 


94  IN   MY   NURSERY. 


JAMIE   IN   THE   GARDEN. 

How  is  a  little  boy  to  know 
About  these  berries  all, 
That  ripen  all  the  summer  through, 
From  spring-time  until  fall  ? 

I  must  not  eat  them  till  they're  ripe, 
I  know  that  very  well ; 
But  each  kind  ripens  differently, 
So  how  am  I  to  tell  ? 

Though  strawberries  and  raspberries, 
When  ripe,  are  glowing  red, 
Red  blackberries  I  must  not  touch, 
Mamma  has  lately  said. 

And  though  no  one  of  these  is  fit 
To  touch  when  it  is  green, 
Ripe  gooseberries,  as  green  as  grass, 
At  Grandpapa's  I  'vc  seen. 

And  peas  are  green  when  they  are  ripe ; 
Some  kinds  of  apples  too. 
But  they  're  not  berries  ;  neither  arc 
These  currants,  it  is  true. 

These  currants,  now!  why,  some  are  red, 
And  some  are  brilliant  green. 
"  Don't  eat  unripe  ones  ! "   said  Mamma. 
But  which  ones  did  she  mean  ? 


SOMEBODY'S    BOY    (NOT   MINE).  95 

To  disobey  her  would  be  wrong. 
To  leave  them  I  am  loath. 
I  really  can't  find  out,  unless  — 
Unless  I  eat  them  both ! 

[He  eats  them  both.] 


SOMEBODY'S  BOY   (NOT   MINE). 

WHEN  he  was  up  he  cried  to  get  down, 
And  when  he  was  in  he  cried  to  get  out; 
And  no  little  boy  in  Boston  town 
Was  ever  so  ready  to  fret  and  pout. 

Poutsy,  oh! 

And  fretsy,  oh  ! 

And  spend  the  whole  day  in  a  petsy,  oh ! 
And  what  shall  we  do  to  this  bad  little  man, 
But  scold  him  as  hard  as  we  possibly  can! 

When  he  was  cold  he  cried  to  be  warm, 
And  when  he  was  warm  he  cried  to  be  cold ; 
And  all  the  morning  'twas  scold  and  storm, 
And  all  the  evening  'twas  storm  and  scold. 

Stormy,  oh ! 

And  scoldy,  oh ! 

And  never  do  what  he  was  toldy,  oh ! 
And  what  shall  we  do  to  this  bad  little  man, 
But  scold  him  as  hard  as  we  possibly  can! 


/ 


BOGY. 

His  eyes  are  green  and  his  nose  is  brown, 
His  feet  go  up  and  his  head  goes  down, 
And  so  he  goes  galloping  through  the  town, 

The  king  of  the  Hobbledygoblins. 
His  heels  stick  out  and  his  toes  stick  in, 
He  wears  his  mustaches  upon  his  chin, 
And  he  glares  about  with  a  horrible  grin, 

The  king  of  the  Hobbledygoblins. 


THE    MERMAIDENS.  97 

No  naughty  boys  can  escape  his  eyes ; 

He  clutches  them,  'spite  of  their  tears  and  sighs, 

And  away  at  a  terrible  pace  he  hies 

To  his  castle  of  Killeniaiieetein ; 
There  he  shuts  them  up  under  lock  and  key, 
And  feeds  them  on  blacking  and  grasshopper  tea, 
And  if  ever  they  try  to  get  out,  you  see, 

Why,  this  is  the  way  he  '11  treat  'em. 

.[Here  Mamma  may  toss  the  little  boy  up  in  the  air,  or  shake  him,  or 
tickle  his  little  chin,  whichever  he  likes  best.] 

Now,  Johnny  and  Tommy,  you  'd  better  look  out ! 
All  day  you've  done  nothing  but  quarrel  and  pout, 
And  nobody  knows  what  it 's  all  about, 

But  it  gives  me  a  great  deal  of  pain,  dears. 
So,  Johnny  and   Tommy,  be  good,  I  pray, 
Or  the  king  will  be  after  you  some  fine  day, 
And  off  to  his  castle  he  '11  whisk  you  away, 

And  we  never  shall  see  you  again,  dears ! 


THE   MERMAIDENS. 

THE  little  white  mermaidens  live  in  the  sea, 

In  a  palace  of  silver  and  gold ; 

And  their  neat  little  tails  are  all  covered  with  scales, 

Most  beautiful  for  to  behold. 

On  wild  white  horses  they  ride,  they  ride, 
And  in  chairs  of  pink  coral  they  sit; 
They  swim  all  the  night,  with  a  smile  of  delight, 
And  never  feel  tired  a  bit. 

7 


98 


IN   MY  NURSERY. 


Now  list,  oh !  list  to  the  piteous  tale 

Of  the  Phrisky  Phrog  and  the  Sylvan  Snayle ; 

Of  their  lives  and  their  loves,  their  joys  and  their  woes, 

And  all  about  them  that  any  one  knows. 

The  Phrog  lived  down  in  a  grewsome  bog, 
The  Snayle  in  a  hole  in  the  end  of  a  log; 
And  they  loved  each  other  so  fond  and  true, 
They  didn't  know  what  in  the  world  to  do. 

For  the  Snayle  declared  'twas  too  cold  and  damp 
For  a  lady  to  live  in  a  grewsome  swamp ; 
While  her  lover  replied,  that  a  hole  in  a  log 
Was  no  possible  place  for  a  Phrisky  Phrog. 


THE    PHRISKY   PIIROG. 

"  Come  down !  come  down,  my  beautiful  Snayle ! 
With  your  helegant  horns  and  your  tremulous  tail ; 
Come  down  to  my  bower  in  the  blossomy  bog, 
And  be  happy  with  me,"  said  the  Phrisky  Phrog. 

"  Come  up,  come  up,  to  my  home  so  sweet, 
Where  there  's  plenty  to  drink,  and  the  same  to  eat ; 
Come  up  where  the  cabbages  bloom  in  the  vale, 
And  be  happy  with  me,"  said  the  Sylvan  Snayle. 

But  he  would  n't  come,  and  she  would  n't  go, 
And  so  they  could  never  be  married,  you  know ; 
Though  they  loved  each  other  so  fond  and  true, 
They  did  n't  know  what  in  the  world  to  do. 


99 


100  IN   MY   NURSERY. 


THE   AMBITIOUS   CHICKEN. 

IT  was  an  Easter  chicken 

So  blithesome  and  so  gay ; 
He  peeped  from  out  his  plaster  shell 

All  on  an  Easter  Day. 

His  wings  were  made  of  yellow  down, 
His  eyes  were  made  of  beads  ; 

He  seemed,  in  very  sooth,  to  have 
All  that  a  chicken  needs. 

He  winked  and  blinked  and  peeped  about, 

And  to  himself  he  said, 
"  When  first  a  chicken  leaves  the  shell, 

Of  course  he  must  be  fed. 

"  And  though  I  may  be  young  in  years, 

And  this  my  natal  morn, 
I  'm  quite,  quite  old  enough  to  know 

Where  people  keep  the  corn." 

He  winked  and  blinked  and  peeped  about, 

Till  in  a  corner  sly 
He  saw  a  heap  of  golden  corn 

Piled  on  a  platter  high. 

''Now,  this  is  well!"  the  chicken  cried; 

"  Now,  this  is  well,  in  sooth. 
This  corn   shall  nourish  and  sustain 

My  faint  and  tender  youth. 


THE    AMBITIOUS    CHICKEN.  1Q1 

"  And  I  shall  grow  and  grow  apace, 

And  come  to  high  estate, 
With  mighty  feathers  in  my  tail, 

And  combs  upon  my  pate. 

"To  see  my  beauty  and  my  grace 

The  feathered  race  will  flock, 
And  all  will  bow  them  low  before 

The  mighty  Easter  Cock." 

As  thus  the  chicken  proudly  spake, 

And  stooped  to  snatch  the  prize, 
His  head  fell  off,  and  rolled  away 

Before  his  very  eyes  ! ! ! ! 

It  rolled  into  the  dish  of  corn, 

A  sad  and  sombre  sight, 
While  still  upon  its  plaster  legs, 

His  body  stood  upright. 

And  little  Mary,  when  she  came 

With  shining  "  popper "  bright, 
To  pop  the  corn,  and  make  the  balls 

Which  were  her  heart's  delight, 

Gazed  at  the  dish  with  wide  blue  eyes, 

And  "  Oh  !  Mamma !  "  she  said  : 
"  One  piece  has  gone  and  popped  itself 

Into  a  chicken's  head  ! " 


102  IN   MY   NURSERY. 


THE   BOY    AND   THE   BROOK. 

SAID  the  boy  to  the  brook  that  was  rippling  away, 

"  Oh,  little  brook,  pretty  brook,  will  you  not  stay  ? 

Oh,  stay  with  me,  play  with  me,  all  the  day  long, 

And  sing  in  my  ears  your  sweet  murmuring  song." 

Said  the  brook  to  the  boy  as  it  hurried  away, 

u  And  is't  for  my  music  you  ask  me  to  stay? 

1  was  silent  until  from  the  hillside  I  gushed  ; 

Should  I  pause  for  an  instant,  my  song  would  be  hushed. 

Said  the  boy  to  the  wind  that  was  fluttering  past, 

"  Oh,  little  wind,  pretty  wind,  whither  so  fast  ? 

Oh,  stay  with  me,  play  with  me,  fan  my  hot  brow, 

And  ever  breathe  softly  and  gently  as  now." 

Said  the  wind  to  the  boy  as  it  hurried  away, 

*'  And  is 't  for  my  coolness  you  ask  me  to  stay  ? 

'T  is  only  in  flying  you  feel  my  cool  breath  ; 

Should  I  pause  for  an  instant,  that  instant  were  death." 

Said  the  boy  to  the  day  that  was  hurrying  by, 
"  Oh,  little  day,  pretty  day,  why  must  yon  fly  ? 
Oh,  stay  with  me,  play  with  me,  just  as  you  are ; 
Let  no  shadow  of  evening  your  noon-brightness  mar." 
Said  the  day  to  the  boy  as  it  hurried  away, 
"And  is't  for  my  brightness  you  ask  me  to  stay? 
Know,  the  jewel  of  day  would  no  longer  seem  bright, 
If  it  were  not  clasped  round  by  the  setting  of  night." 


Iku  -.-       -----~~-~--  

»       \ 

t          f 

f         \    1 

\ 

THE   SHARK. 

OH  !  blitht  and  merrily  sang  the  shark, 
As  he  sat  on  the  house-top  high : 

A-cleaning  his  boots,  and  smoking  cheroots, 
With  a  single  glass  in  his  eye. 


104  IN   MY  NURSERY. 

With  Martin  and  Day  he  polished  away, 

And  a  smile  on  his  face  did  glow, 
As  merry  and  bold  the  chorus  he  trolled 

Of  "  Gobble-em-upsky  ho  !  " 

He  sang  so  loud,  he  astonished  the  crowd 

Which  gathered  from  far  and  near. 
For  they  said,  "  Such  a  sound,  in  the  country  round,. 

We  never,  no,  never  did  hear." 

He  sang  of  the  ships  that  he  'd  eaten  like  chips 

In  the  palmy  days  of  his  youth. 
And  he  added,  "  If  you  don't  believe  it  is  true, 

Pray  examine  my  wisdom  tooth ! " 

He  sang  of  the  whales  who  'd  have  given  their  tails 

For  a  glance  of  his  raven  eye. 
And  the  swordfish,  too,  who  their  weapons  all  drew, 

And  swor'd  for  his  sake  they  'd  die. 

And  he  sang  about  wrecks  and  hurricane  decks 

And  the  mariner's  perils  and  pains, 
Till  every  man's  blood  up  on  end  it  stood, 

And  their  hair  ran  cold  in  their  veins. 

But  blithe  as  a  lark  the  merry  old  shark, 

He  sat  on  the  sloping  roof. 
Though  he  said,  "  It  is  queer  that  no  one  draws  near 

To  examine  my  wisdom  toof !  " 

And  he  carolled  away,  by  night  and  by  day, 

Until  he  made  every  one  ill. 
And  I  '11  wager  a  crown  that  unless  he 's  come  down, 

He  is  probably  carolling  still. 


THE    EASTER    HEN.  105 


THE  EASTER  HEN. 

OH  !  children,  have  you  ever  seen 

The  little  Easter  Hen, 
Who  comes  to  lay  her  pretty  eggs, 

Then  runs  away  again  ? 

She  only  comes  on  Easter  Day ; 

And  when  that  day  is  o'er, 
Till  next  year  brings  it  round  again, 

You  will  not  see  her  more. 

Her  eggs  are  not  like  common  eggs, 

But  all  of  colors  bright : 
Blue,  purple,  red,  with  spots  and  stripes, 

And  scarcely  one  that 's  white. 

She  lays  them  in  no  special  place, — 

On  this  side,  now  on  that. 
And  last  year,  only  think !  she  laid 

One  right  in  Johnny's  hat. 

But  naughty  boys  and  girls  get  none: 

So,  children,  don't  forget ! 
And  be  as  good  as  good  can  be  — 

It  is  not  Easter  yet ! 


106  IN   MY   NURSERY, 


PUMP  AND   PLANET. 

WITH  a  hop,  skip,  and  jump, 

We  went  to  the  pump, 

To  fill  our  kettles  with  starch. 

He  gave  us  good  day 

In  the  pleasantest  way, 

With  a  smile  that  was  winning  and  arch. 

"Oh,  Pump,"  said  I, 

"  When  you  look  up  on  high 

To  flirt  with  the  morning  star, 

Does  it  make  you  sad, 

Oh !  Pumpy,  my  lad, 

To  think  she  's  away  so  far  ? " 

Said  the  Pump,  "  Oh  no  ! 

For  we've  settled  it  so 

That  but  little  my  feelings  are  tried. 

For  every  clear  night 

She  slides  down  the  moonlight, 

And  shines  in  the  trough  at  my  side." 


PUMP   AND   PLANET. 


108  -EV   MY   NURSERY. 


THE   POSTMAN. 

HEY  !  the  little  postman, 

And  his  little  dog. 
Here  he  comes  a-hopping 

Like  a  little  frog; 
Bringing  me  a  letter, 

Bringing  me  a  note, 
In  the  little  pocket 

Of  his  little  coat. 

Hey!  the  little  postman, 

And  his  little  bag, 
Here  he  comes  a-trotting 

Like  a  little  nag  ; 
Bringing  me  a  paper, 

Bringing  me  a  bill, 
From  the  little  grocer 

On  the  little  hill. 

Hey  !  the  little  postman, 

And  his  little  hat, 
Here  he  comes  a-creeping 

Like  a  little  cat. 
What  is  that  he's  saying? 

"  Naught  for  you  to-day ! " 
Horrid  little  postman  ! 

I  wish  you'd  go  away! 


HOPSY  UPST.  109 


HOPSY   UPSY. 

HOPSY  upsy,  Baby  oh ! 
Into  your  bath  you  now  must  go; 
Splash  and  dash,  and  paddle  and  plash, 
That 's  what  you  like,  my  Baby  oh ! 

Where  is  the  sponge  for  Baby  oh? 
See  the  silvery  fountains  flow, — 
Diamond  drops  so  bright  and  clear, 
Falling  all  over  my  Baby  dear. 

Now  for  the  soap,  my  Baby  oh ! 
Watch  the  bubbles  that  come  and  go ; 
Rainbow  isles  in  a  sea  of  foam, 
Reflecting  your  smiles,  they  go  and  come. 

Here  is  the  towel  for  Baby  oh ! 
Cannot  stay  in  all  day,  you  know ; 
Now  scrub  and  rub,  and  rub  and  scrub, 
And  so  good-by  to  the  beautiful  tub. 

Now  for  the  shirt,  my  Baby  oh ! 
Soft  and  warm,  and  as  white  as  snow. 
Puffy  white  petticoats,  fluffy  white  gown  ; 
Why,  what  a  great  ball  of  thistle-down! 

Last  come  the  curls,  my  Baby  oh ! 
Soft  as  silver  they  fall  and  flow. 
Now  toss  him  up  and  carry  him  down, 
The  bonniesVBaby  in  Boston  town ! 


110 


MY   NURSERY. 


LITTLE   BLACK   MONKEY. 

LITTLE  black  Monkey  sat  up  in  a  tree, 
Little  black  Monkey  he  grinned  at  me  ; 
He  put  out  his  paw  for  a  cocoanut, 
And  he  dropped  it  down  on  my  occiput. 


The  occiput  is  a  part,  you  know, 
Of  the  head  which  does  on  my  shoulders  grow  ; 
And  it's  very  unpleasant  to  have  it  hit, 
Especially  when  there  's  no  hair  on  it. 


LITTLE  BLACK  MONKEY. 


Ill 


I  took  up  my  gun,  and  I  said,  "  Now,  why, 

Little  black  Monkey,  should  you  not  die  ? 

I  '11  hit  you  soon  in  a  vital  part ! 

It  may  be  your  head,  or  it  may  be  your  heart." 


112  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

I  steadied  my  gun,  and  I  aimed  it  true  ; 
The  trigger  it  snapped  and  the  bullet  it  flew; 
But  just  where  it  went  to  I  cannot  tell, 
For  I  never  could  find  where  that  bullet  fell. 

Little  black  Monkey  still  sat  in  the  tree, 
And  placidly,  wickedly  grinned  at  me. 
I  took  up  my  gun  and  I  walked  away, 
And  postponed  his  death  till  another  day. 


JIPPY   AND  JIMMY. 

JIPPY  and  Jimmy  were  two  little  dogs. 

They  went  to  sail  on  some  floating  logs  ; 

The  logs  rolled  over,  the  dogs  rolled  in, 

And  they  got  very  wet,  for  their  clothes  were  thin. 

Jippy  and  Jimmy  crept  out  again. 
They  said,  "  The  river  is  full  of  rain ! " 
'They  said,  "  The  water  is  far  from  dry ! 
Ki-hi !  ki-hi !  ki-Ai-yi !  ki-hi !  " 

Jippy  and  Jimmy  went  shivering  home. 
They  said,  "  On  the  river  no  more  we  '11  roam ; 
And  we  won't  go  to  sail  until  we  learn  how, 
Bow-wow  !  bow-wow !  bow-?#(w-wow !  bow-wow !  " 


MAS  TEE  JACK'S  SONG.  H3 


MASTER  JACK'S  SONG. 

[Written  after  spending  the  Christmas  Holidays  at  Grandmamma's.'] 

You  may  talk  about  your  groves, 

Where  you  wander  with  your  loves. 

You  may  talk  about  your  moonlit  waves  that  fall  and  flow. 

Something  fairer  far  than  these 

I  can  show  you,  if  you   please. 

Tis  the  charming  little  cupboard  where  the  jam-pots  grow. 

* 

Chorus.     Where  the  jam-pots  grow ! 
Where  the  jam-pots  grow! 

Where  the  jelly  jolly,  jelly  jolly  jam-pots  grow. 
The  fairest  spot  to  me, 
On  the  land  or  on  the  sea, 
Is  the  charming  little  cupboard  where  the  jam-pots  grow. 

There  the  golden  peaches  shine 

In  their  syrup  clear  and  fine, 

And  the  raspberries  are  blushing  with  a  dusky  glow. 

And  the  cherry  and  the  plum 

Seem  to  beckon  you  to  come 

To  the  charming  little  cupboard  where  the  jam-pots  grow. 

Chorus.     Where  the  jam-pots  grow ! 
Where  the  jam-pots  grow! 

Where  the  jelly  jolly,  jelly  jolly  jam-pots  grow. 
The  fairest  spot  to  me, 
On  the  land  or  on  the  sea, 
Is  the  charming  little  cupboard  where  the  jam-pots  grow. 

8 


114  I2V  MY   NURSERY. 

There  the  sprightly  pickles  stand, 

"With  the  catsup  close  at  hand, 

And  the  marmalades   and  jellies  in  a  goodly  row. 

While  the  quinces'  ruddy  fire 

Would  an  anchorite  inspire 

To  seek  the  little  cupboard  where  the  jam-pots  grow. 

Chorus.     Where  the  jam-pots  grow ! 
Where  the  jam-pots  grow! 

Where  the  jelly  jolly,  jelly  jolly  jam-pots  grow. 
The  fairest  spot  to  me, 
On  the  land  or  on  the  sea, 
Is  the  charming  little  cupboard  where  the  jam-pots  grow. 

Never  tell  me  of  your  bowers 

That  are  full  of  bugs  and  flowers! 

Never  tell  me  of  your  meadows  where  the  breezes  blow! 

But  sing  me,  if  you  will, 

Of  the  house  beneath  the  hill, 

And  the  darling  little  cupboard  where  the  jam-pots  grow. 

Chorus.     Where  the  jam-pots  grow  ! 
Where  the  jam-pots  grow ! 

Where  the  jelly  jolly,  jelly  jolly  jam-pots  grow. 
The  fairest  spot  to  me, 
On  the  land  or  on  the  sea, 
Is  the  charming  little  cupboard  where  the  jam-pots  grow. 


MOTHER    ROSEBUSH.  H5 


MOTHER  ROSEBUSH. 

THERE  are  roses  that  grow  on  a  vine,  on  a  vine. 
There  are  roses  that  grow  on  a  stalk  ; 

But  my  little  Rose 

Grows  on  ten  little  toes, 
So  I'll  take  my  Rose  out  for  a  walk. 
Come  out  in  the  garden,  Rosy  Posy, 
Come  visit  your  cousins,  child,  with  me ! 
If  you  are  my  daughter,  it  stands  to  reason 
Your  own  Mother  Rosebush  I  must  be. 

Now,  here  is  your  cousin  Damask,  Rosy! 
And,  Rosy,  here  is  your  cousin  Blush ; 

General  Jacqueminot, 

(Your  uncle,  you  know,) 
Salutes  you  here  with  his  crimson  flush. 
Here's  Gloire  de  Dijon,  a  splendid  fellow, 
All  creamy  and  dreamy  and  soft  and  sweet; 
And  Cloth-of-Gold,  with  his  coat  of  yellow, 
Is  dropping  rose-nobles  here  at  your  feet. 

•* 
My  Baltimore  Belle,  my  Queen  of  the  Prairie, 

Now,  why  are  your  ladyships  looking  so  cross  ? 

Lord  Butterfly,  see ! 

And  Sir  Honey  de  Bee, 

Have  deserted  them  both  for  your  sweet  cousin  Moss. 
Ah!  Marechal  Niel,  I  am  glad  to  observe,  sir, 
You  train  up  your  buds  in  the  way  they  should  go, 
All  buttoned  up  close ;  while  careless  Niphetos 
Lets  her  children  go  fluttering  to  and  fro. 


116  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

You  whitest  beauty,  what  is  your  name,  now  ? 
"  Snow  Queen  ? "    Ay,  and  it  suits  you  well  ! 

And  yonder,  I  see, 

Is  my  friend  Cherokee, 

Who  will  not  stop  climbing,  his  name  to  tell ; 
And  here  and  there  are  blushing  and  blowing- 
Crimson  and  yellow  and  white  and  pink ; 
Pale  or  angry,  gleaming  or  glowing. 
The  whole  world's  turning  to  roses,  I  think. 

Oh  !  fair  is  the  rose  on  the  vine,  on  the  vine, 
And  sweet  is  the  rose  on  the  tree ; 

But  there 's  only  one  Rose 

That  has  ten  little  toes, 
And  she  is  the  Rose  for  me. 
Come,  put  on  your  calyx,  Rosy  Posy, 
Put  on  your  calyx  and  come  with  me ; 
For  if  you  are  my  daughter,  it  stands  to  reason, 
Your  own  Mother  Rosebush  I  must  be. 


THE   FIVE   LITTLE   PRINCESSES. 

FIVE  little  princesses  started  off  to  school, 

Following  their  noses,  because  it  was  the  rule  : 

But  one  nose  turned  up,  and  another  nose  turned  down, 

So  all  these  little  princesses  were  lost  in  the  to\vn. 

Poor  little  princesses  cannot  find  their  way. 
Naughty  little  noses,  to  lead  them  astray  ! 
Poor  little  princesses,  sadly  they  roam ; 
Naughty  little  noses,  pray  lead  them  home ! 


THE    HORNET   AND    THE    BEE.  H7 


THE   HORNET   AND   THE   BEE. 

SAID  the  hornet  to  the  bee, 

"  Pray  you,  will  you  marry  me  ? 

Will  you  be  my  little  wife, 

For  to  love  me  all  my  life  ? 

You  shall  have  a  velvet  cloak, 

And  a  bonnet  with  a  poke. 

You  shall  sit  upon  a  chair 

With  a  cabbage  in  your  hair. 

You  shall  ride  upon  a  horse, 

If  you  fancy  such  a  course. 

You  shall  feed  on  venison  pasty 

In  a  manner  trig  and  tasty  ; 

Devilled  bones  and  apple-cores, 

If  you  like  them,  shall  be  yours. 

You  shall  drink  both  rum  and  wine, 

If  you  only  will  be  mine. 

Pray  you,  will  you  marry  me  ? " 

Said  the  hornet  to  the  bee. 

Said  the  bee  unto  the  hornet, 

"  Your  proposal,  sir,  I  scorn  it. 

Marry  one  devoid  of  money, 

Who  can't  make  a  drop  of  honey  ? 

Cannot  even  play  the  fiddle, 

And  is  pinched  up  in  the  middle  ? 

Nay,  my  love  is  set  more  high. 


118  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

Cockychafer's  bride  am  I. 
Cockychafer  whirring  loud, 
Frisking  free  and  prancing  proud, 
Cockychafer  blithe  and  gay, 
He  hath  stole  my  heart  away. 
Him  alone  I  mean  to  marry, 
So  no  longer  you  need  tarry. 
Not  another  moment  stay ! 
Cockychafer  comes  this  way. 
Your  proposal,  sir,  I  scorn  it ! " 
Said  the  bee  unto  the  hornet. 

So  the  cockychafer  came, 
Took  the  bee  to  be  his  dame. 
Took  the  bee  to  be  his  wife, 
For  to  love  her  all  his  life. 
Wedding  dress  of  goblin  green, 
Hat  and  feathers  for  a  queen, 
Worsted  mittens  on  her  feet, 
Thus  her  toilet  was  complete. 
Then  when  it  was  time  to  dine, 
Cockychafer  brought  her  wine, 
Roasted  mouse  and  bunny-fish, 
Porridge  in  a  silver  dish  ; 
Lobster-claws  and  scalloped  beast. 
Was  not  that  a  lovely  feast? 
But  when  it  was  time  to  sup, 
Cockychafer  ate  her  up. 
Thus  concludes  the  history 
Of  the  hornet  and  the  bee. 


THE    THREE    LITTLE  CHICKENS.  119 


THE  THREE   LITTLE   CHICKENS   WHO   WENT   OUT  TO 
TEA,   AND   THE  ELEPHANT. 

LITTLE  chickens,  one,  two,  three, 
They  went  out  to  take  their  tea, 
Brisk  and  gay  as  gay  could  be, 

Cackle  wackle  wackle ! 
Feathers  brushed  all  smooth  and  neat, 
Yellow  stockings  on  their  feet, 
Tails  and  tuftings  all  complete, 

Cackle  wackle  wackle  ! 

"  Very  seldom,"  said  the  three, 
"  Like  of  us  the  world  can  see, 
Beautiful  exceedingly, 

Cackle  wackle  wackle  ! 
Such  our  form  and  such  our  face, 
Such  our  Cochin  China  grace, 
We  must  win  in  beauty's  race, 

Cackle  wackle  wackle!" 

Met  an  elephant  large  and  wise, 
Looked  at  them  with  both  his  eyes : 
Caused  these  chickens  great  surprise; 

Cackle  wackle  wackle ! 
"Why,"  they  said,  "do  you  suppose 
Elephant  doesn't  look  out  of  his  nose, 
So  very  conveniently  it  grows  ? 

Cackle  wackle  wackle ! 


120 


IN   MY   NURSERY. 

"  Elephant  with  nose  so  long, 
Sing  us  now  a  lovely  song, 
As  we  gayly  trip  along, 

Cackle  wackle  wackle ! 
Sing  of  us  and  sing  of  you, 
Sing  of  corn  and  barley  too, 
Beauteous  beast  with  eyes  of  blue, 

Cackle  wackle  wackle  !  " 


Elephant  sang  so  loud  and  sweet, 
Chickens  fell  before  his  feet; 
For  his  love  they  did  entreat, 

Cackle  wackle  wackle. 
"  Well-a-day  !  and  woe  is  me  ! 
Would  we  all  might  elephants  be ! 
Then  he  'd  marry  us,  one,  two,  three, 

Cackle  wackle  wackle  !  " 


THE    THREE    LITTLE  CHICKENS. 

Elephant  next  began  to  dance : 

Capered  about  with  a  stately  prance 

Learned  from  his  grandmother  over  in  France, 

Cackle  wackle  wackle ! 
Fast  and  faster  'gau  to  tread, 
Trod  on  every  chicken's  head, 
Killed  them  all  uncommonly  dead, 

Cackle  wackle  wackle ! 


121 


MORAL. 

Little  chickens,  one,  two,  three, 
When  you're  walking  out  to  tea, 
Don't  make  love  to  all  you  see, 

Cackle  wackle  wackle ! 
Elephants  have  lovely  eyes, 
But  to  woo  them  is  not  wise, 
For  they  are  not  quite  your  size! 

Cackle  wackle  wackle  ! 


122  IN   MY   NURSERY. 


A  LEGEND   OF   LAKE   OKEEFINOKEE. 

THERE  once  was  a  frog, 

And  he  lived  in  a  bog, 

On  the  banks  of  Lake  Okeefinokee. 

And  the  words  of  the  song 

That  he  sang  all  day  long 

Were,  "  Croakety  croakety  croaky." 

Said  the  frog,  "  I  have  found 

That  my  life's  daily  round 

In  this  place  is  exceedingly  poky. 

So  no  longer  I  '11  stop, 

But  I  swiftly  will  hop 

Away  from  Lake  Okeefinokee." 

Now  a  bad  mocking-bird 

By  mischance  overheard 

The  words  of  the  frog  as  he  spokee. 

And  he  said,  "  All  my  life 

Frog  and  I've  been  at  strife, 

As  we  lived  by  Lake  Okeefinokee. 

"  Now  I  see  at  a  glance 

Here  's  a  capital  chance 

For  to  play  him  a  practical  jokee. 

So  I'll  venture  to  say 

That  he  shall  not  to-day 

Leave  the  banks  of  Lake  Okeefinokee." 

So  this  bad  mocking-bird, 

Without  saying  a  word, 

He  flew  to  a  tree  which  was  oaky. 


A  LEGEND  OF  LAKE  OKEEFINOKEE.       123 

And  loudly  he  sang, 

Till  the  whole  forest  rang, 

"  Oh !  Croakety  croakety  croaky  ! " 

As  he  warbled  this  song, 
Master  Frog  came  along, 
A-filling  his  pipe  for  to  smokee, 
And  he  said,  "  'T  is  some  frog 
Has  escaped  from  the  bog 
Of  Okeefinokee-finokee. 

"  I  am  filled  with  amaze 

To  hear  one  of  my  race 

A- warbling  on  top  of  an  oaky ; 

But  if  frogs  can  climb  trees, 

1  may  still  find  some  ease 

On  the  banks  of  Lake  Okeefinokee." 

So  he  climbed  up  the  tree; 

But  alas !  down  fell  he  ! 

And  his  lovely  green  neck  it  was  brokee ; 

And  the  sad  truth  to  say, 

Never  more  did  he  stray 

From  the  banks  of  Lake  Okeefinokee. 

And  the  bad  mocking-bird 

Said,  "  How  very  absurd 

And  delightful  a  practical  jokee ! " 

But  I'm  happy  to  say 

He  was  drowned  the  next  day 

In  the  waters  of  Okeefinokee. 


124  IN   MY   NURSERY. 


GRANDPAPA'S   VALENTINE. 

I  MAY  not  claim  her  lovely  hand, 

My  darling  and  my  pride  ! 
I  may  not  ask  her  to  become 

My  bright  and  beauteous  bride ; 
The  measure  of  my  love  for  her 

May  not  be  said  or  sung ; 
And  all  because  I  'm  rather  old, 

And  she  is  rather  young. 

I  may  not  clasp  her  slender  waist, 

And  thread  the  mazy  dance ; 
I  may  not  drive  her  in  the  Park, 

With  steeds  that  neigh  and  prance. 
I  may  not  tempt  her  with  my  lands, 

Nor  buy  her  with  my  gold  ; 
And  all  because  she  's  rather  young, 

And  I  am  rather  old. 

She  leaves  me  for  a  younger  swain, 

A  plump  and  beardless  boy. 
She  slights  me  for  a  sugar-plum, 

Neglects  me  for  a  toy. 
And  worst  of  all,  this  state  of  things 

Can  never  altered  be  ; 
For  I  am  nearly   sixty-eight, 

And  she  is  only  three. 


ALIBAZAN.  125 


ALIBAZAN. 


ALL  on  the  road  to  Alibazan, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning, 

'T  was  there  I  met  a  bonny  young  man, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning ; 

A  bonny  young  man  all  dressed  in  blue, 

Hat  and  feather  and  stocking  and  shoe, 

Ruff  and  doublet  and  mantle  too, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning. 

He  made  me  a  bow,  and  he  made  me  three, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning; 

He  said,  in  truth,  I  was  fair  to  see, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning. 

"  And  say,  will  you  be  my  sweetheart  now  ? 

I  '11  marry  you  truly  with  ring  and  vow  ; 

I've  ten  fat  sheep  and  a  black-nosed  cow, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning. 

"  What  shall  we  buy  in  Alibazan, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning  ? 

A  pair  of  shoes  and  a  feathered  fan, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning. 

A  velvet  gown  all  set  with  pearls, 

A  silver  hat  for  your  golden  curls, 

A  pot  of  pinks  for  my  pink  of  girls, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning." 


126  IN  MY   NURSERY. 

All  in  the  streets  of  Alibazan, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning, 

The  merry  maidens  tripped  and  ran, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning. 

And  this  was  fine,  and  that  was  free, 

But  he  turned  from  them  all  to  look  on  me; 

And  "  Oh  !  but  there 's  none  so  fair  to  see, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning." 

All  in  the  church  of  Alibazan, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning, 

'T  was  there  I  wed  my  bonny  young  man. 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning. 

And  oh !  't  is  I  am  his  sweetheart  now ! 

And  oh !  't  is  we  are  happy,  I  trow, 

With  our  ten  fat  sheep  and  our  black-nosed  cow, 

A  May  Day  in  the  morning. 


THE    THREE    FISHERS. 


127 


--U  \       ,-xA    > 

"^i. — ^T ?~ff>        >• 


THE   THREE   FISHERS. 

JOHN,  Frederick,  and  Henry, 

Had  once  a  holiday  ; 
And  they  wpuld  go  a-fishing, 

So  merry  and  so  gay. 
They  went  to  fish  for  salmon, 

These  little  children  three; 
As  in  this  pretty  picture 

You  all  may  plainly  see. 


128  IN  MY   NURSERY. 

It  was  not  in  the  ocean, 

Nor  from  the  river  shore, 
But  in  the  monstrous  water-butt 

Outside  the  kitchen  door. 
And  John  he  had  a  fish-hook, 

And  Fred  a  crooked  pin, 
And  Henry  took  his  sister's  net, 

And  thought  it  was  no  sin. 

They  climbed  up  on  the  ladder, 

Till  they  the  top  did  win ; 
And  then  they  perched  upon  the  edge, 

And  then  they  did  begin. 
But  how  their  fishing  prospered, 

Or  if  they  did  it  well, 
Or  if  they  caught  the  salmon, 

I  cannot,  cannot  tell. 

Because  I  was  not  there,  you  know, 

But  I  can  only  say 
That  I  too  went  a-fishing, 

That  pleasant  summer  day. 
It  was  not  for  a  salmon, 

Or  shark  with  monstrous  fin, 
But  it  was  for  three  little  boys, 

All  dripping  to  the  skin. 


PEE PS Y.  129 

» 

PEEPSY. 

[After  the  manner  of  Jane  Taylor.] 

OUR  Julia  has  a  little  bird, 

And  Peepsy  is  his  name ; 
And  now  I  '11  sing  a  little  song 

To  celebrate  the  same. 

He's  yellow  all  from  head  to  foot, 

And  he  is  very  sweet, 
And  very  little  trouble,  for 

He  never  wants  to  eat. 

He  never  asks  for  water  clear, 

He  never  chirps  for  seed, 
For  cracker,  or  for  cuttlefish, 

For  sugar  or  chickweed. 

"  Oh  !  what  a  perfect  pet ! "  you  cry, 

But  there  's  one  little  thing, 
One  drawback  to  the  bonny  bird,  — 

Our  Peepsy  cannot  sing. 

He  chirps  no  song  at  dawn  or  eve, 

He  makes  no  merry  din  ; 
But  this  one  cannot  wonder  at, 

For  Peepsy  's  made  of  tin. 
9 


130  AV   MY   NURSERY. 


MAY   SONG. 

ON  a  certain  First  of  May, 

So  they  say, 

Came  two  merry  little  maids 

Out  to  play. 

Brown-haired  Jeanie,  sweet  and  wise, 

Fair-haired  Xorah,  with  her  eyes 

Blue  as  are  the  morning  skies. 

Each  in  cap  and  kirtle  gay, 

Pretty  little  maids  were  they ; 

Light  of  heart  and  well  content, 

Through  the  fields  they  singing  went, 

On  a  merry  First  of  May, 

So  they  say. 

On  this  merry  First  of  May, 

So  they  say, 

Came  two  sturdy  little  lads 

By  that  way. 

Miller's  Robin  from  the  mill, 

Shepherd's  Johnnie  from  the  hill ; 

Bonny  little  lads,  I  trow, 

Sunny  eyes  and  open  brow, 

Ruddy  cheeks  and  curly  hair, 

Sturdy  legs  all  brown  and  bare, 

Through  the  fields  they  marched  along, 

Whistling  each  his  cheery  song, 

On  a  merry  First  of  May, 

So  they  say. 


MAY  SONG.  131 

On  this  merry  First  of  May, 

So  they  say, 

Lads  and  lasses,  there  they  met 

On  their  way. 

Said  the  lads,  "  We  '11  choose  a  queen  ! 

May  Day  comes  but  once,  I  ween. 

Search  we  all  the  country  round, 

Sweeter  maids  could  not  be  found." 

Laughed  the  lasses  merrily, 

"  Ay !  but  which  one  shall  it  be  ? 

John  and  Robin,  tell  us  true, 

Which  is  fairer  of  the  two, 

On  this  merry  First  of  May  ? 

Quickly  say ! " 

On  this  merry  First  of  May, 

So  they  say, 

Shepherd  Johnnie  hushed  his  whistle 

Blithe  and  gay ; 

"  Brown  eyes  are  more  fair,"  said  he, 

"  For  they  shine  so  winsomely  !  " 

"  Nay  !  "  quoth  Robin,  "  't  is  confessed 

Blue  eyes  always  are  the  best ! 

Fair-haired  Norah  wins  the  prize!" 

"  That  she  docs  not !  "  Johnnie  cries  ; 

"  Norah  's  well  enough,  but  Jean, 

Brown  and  sweet,  shall  be  the  queen 

On  this  merry  First  of  May  ! 

Choose  my  way  ! " 

On  this  merry  First  of  May, 
So  they  say, 

Soon  to  earnest  turned  their  play. 
Well-a-day ! 


132  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

Loud  and  angry  words  arose, 
Angry  words  soon  turned  to  blows ; 
John  and  Robin  o'er  the  ground 
Chase  each  other  round  and  round, 
Kicking,  cuffing,  here  and  there, 
Shouting  through  the  sweet  May  air : 
"  Jeanie  !  "  "  Norah  !  —  is  more  fair  !  " 
While  the  little  maids  aside, 
Blue  eyes,  brown  eyes,  open  wide 
On  this  stormy  First  of  May, 
Well-a-day ! 

On  this  merry  First  of  May, 
So  they  say, 

Jean  and  Norah  stole  away 
From  the  fray. 

"  Silly  lads  !  "  they  laughing  cried, 
"  Let  them  as  they  will  decide ; 
Shall  we  while  they  quarrel,  pray, 
Lose  our  pretty  holiday  ? 
Come  away,  and  we  may  find 
Other  lads,  who  know  their  mind. 
Or  if  not,  why  then,  I  ween. 
Each  will  be  the  other's  queen, 
On  this  merry  First  of  May. 
Come  away ! " 


TWO    LITTLE    VALENTINES.  133 

TWO   LITTLE  VALENTINES. 

[For  two  little  girls.] 


YOUNG  Rosalind,  she  is  my  rose ! 
I  care  not  who  the  secret  knows  ; 
So  deep  within  my  heart  she  grows, 
Her  constant  bloom  no  winter  knows; 
Sweet  Rosalind,  she  is  my  rose. 

Alas !   this  rose  hath  yet  a  thorn, 
Whereon  my  heart  is  daily  torn. 
The  love  I  proffer  her  each  morn, 
That  love  she  flings  me  back  in  scorn. 
But  shall  I  therefore  idly  mourn  ? 
She'd  be  no  rose  without  the  thorn. 

IT. 

WHEN  the  ivory  lily  darkens, 
When  the  jealous  rose  turns  pale, 
Then  I  say,  "  My  Julia 's  coming ! 
'T  is  a  sign  will  never  fail." 

When  the  bobolink  is  silent, 
When  the  linnet  stays  her  trill, 
Then  I  say,  "  My  Julia 's  singing ! 
At  her  voice  the  birds  are  still." 

When  I  feel  two  velvet  rose-leaves 
Touch  my  eyes  on  either  lid, 
Then  I  say,  "  My  Julia  kissed  me ! " 
And  she  answers,  "  Yes,  me  did  ! " 


134  IN   MY   NURSERY. 


A   HOWL   ABOUT   AN   OWL. 

IT  was  an  owl  lived  in  an  oak. 

Sing  heigh  ho !  the  prowly  owl ! 

He  often  smiled,  but  he  seldom  spoke, 

And  he  wore  a  wig  and  a  camlet  cloak. 

Sing  heigh  ho !  the  howly  fowl ! 

Tu-whit !  tu-whit !  tu-whoo  ! 

He  fell  in  love  with  the  chickadee, 
Sing  heigh  ho  !  the  prowly  owl ! 
He  asked  her,  would  she  marry  he, 
And  they  'd  go  and  live  in  Crirn  Tartaree. 
Sing  heigh  ho !  the  howly  fowl ! 
Tu-whit !  tu-whit !  tu-whoo  ! 

"  'T  is  true,"  says  he,  "  you  are  far  from  big." 

Sing  heigh  ho  !  the  prowly  owl ! 

"•  But  you  '11  look  twice  as  well  when  I  've  bought  you  a  wig, 

And  J  '11  teach  you  the  Lancers  and  the  Chorus  Jig." 

Sing  heigh  ho !  the  howly  fowl ! 

Tu-whit !  tu-whit !  tu-whoo ! 

"  I  '11  feed  you  with  honey  when  the  moon  grows  pale." 

Sing  heigh  ho  !  the  prowly  owl ! 

"I'll  hum  you  a  hymn,  and  I'll  sing  you  a  scale, 

Till  you  quiver  with  delight  to  the  tip  of  your  tail ! " 

Sing  heigh  ho !  the  howly  fowl ! 

Tu-whit !  tu-whit !  tu-whoo ! 


OUR    CELEBRATION.  135 

So  he  weiit  for  to  marry  of  the  chickadee, 

Sing  heigh  ho  !  the  prowly  owl ! 

But  the  sun  was  so  bright  that  he  could  not  see, 

So  he  married  the  hoppergrass  instead  of  she. 

And  wasn't  that  a  sad  disappointment  for  he! 

Sing  heigh  ho  !  the  howly  fowl ! 

Tu-whit !  tu-whit !  tu-whoo  ! 


OUR  CELEBRATION. 

OFF  go  the  fire-crackers,  bang !  bang !  bang ! 
Off  go  the  fire-crackers,  bang  !  bang !  bang  ! 
Popguns  all  a-snapping,  and  banners  all  a-flapping,  — 
Off  go  the  fire-crackers,  bang  !  bang !  bang  ! 

Off  the  torpedoes  go,  crack  !  crack  !  crack  ! 
Off  the  torpedoes  go,  crack  !  crack  !  crack  ! 
Fish-horns  all  a-tooting,  and  schoolboys  all  a-hooting,- 
Off  the  torpedoes  go,  crack  !  crack  !  crack  ! 

Off  go  the  fireworks,  fizz  !  fizz  !  fizz  ! 
Off  go  the  fireworks,  fizz  !  fizz  !  fizz  ! 
Pin-wheels  all  a-turning,  and  fingers  all  a-burning, — 
Off  go  the  fireworks,  fizz  !  fizz  !  fizz  ! 

Off  goes  our  little  Ned,  boo-hoo-hoo ! 

Off  goes  our  little  Ned,  boo-hoo-hoo ! 
Big  hole  in  his  jacket,  and  another  in  his  pocket, 

Half  the  hair  singed  off  his  head, 

Off  goes  our  little  Ned, — 
Mamma '11  put  him  straight  to  bed,  boo-hoo-hoo  ! 


136  IN   MY   NURSERY. 


THE   SONG  OF   THE   CORN-POPPER. 

PIP  !  pop  !  flippety  flop  ! 
Here  am  I,  all  ready  to  pop. 
Girls  and  boys,  the  fire  burns  clear ; 
Gather  about  the  chimney  here. 
Big  ones,  little  ones,  all  in  a  row. 
Hop  away  !  pop  away  !  here  we  go  ! 

Pip !  pop !  flippety  flop  ! 

Into  the  bowl  the  kernels  drop. 

Sharp  and  hard  and  yellow  and  small ; 

Must  say  they  don't  look  good  at  all. 

But  wait  till  they  burst  into  warm  white  snow! 

Hop  away  !  pop  away  !  here  we  go  ! 

Pip !  pop !  flippety  flop  ! 

Don't  fill  me  too  full ;  shut  down  the  top  ! 

Rake  out  the  coals  in  an  even  bed, 

Topaz  yellow  and  ruby  red  ; 

Shade  your  eyes  from  the  fiery  glow. 

Hop  away  !  pop  away  !  here  we  go  ! 

Pip !  pop !  flippety  flop ! 

Shake  me  steadily ;  do  not  stop ! 

Backward  and  forward,  not  up  and  down ; 

Don't  let  me  drop,  or  you  '11  burn  it  brown. 

Never  too  high  and  never  too  low. 

Hop  away  !  pop  away  !  here  we  go ! 


WHAT   BOBBY   SAID.  137 

Pip !  pop !  flippety  flop ! 

Now  they  are  singing,  and  soon  they  '11  hop. 

Hi !  the  kernels  begin  to  swell ; 

Ho !  at  last  they  are  dancing  well. 

Puffs  and  fluffs  of  feathery  snow, 

Hop  away !  pop  away !  here  we  go ! 

Pip !  pop !  flippety  flop  ! 
All  full,  little  ones  ?  Time  to  stop ! 
Pour  out  the  snowy,  feathery  mass ; 
Here  is  a  treat  for  lad  and  lass. 
Open  your  mouths  now,  all  in  a  row ; 
Munch  away  !  crunch  away  !  here  we  go ! 


WHAT   BOBBY   SAID. 

I  DON'T  think  it's  right! 

I  don't  think  it's  fair! 
I  don't  like  Easter 

At  all !  so  there ! 

It's  only  because 
I  'm  young,  you  see, 

They  think  they  can  play 
Their  tricks  upon  me. 

They  brought  me  an  egg, 
And  a  beauty,  too  ! 

All  golden  yellow, 
With  stripes  of  blue. 


138  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

They  said  'twas  a  true  egg, 

A  truly  true  ! 
And,  of  course,  I  supposed 

It  was  so  all  through  ; 

But  when  it  was  opened, 
Just  think  what  a  shame ! 

'T  was  just  like  the  white  ones, 
Just  'zactly  the  same ! 

Part  white  and  part  yellow, 
No  bit  of  it  blue, 

And  it  tasted  the  same 
As  the  other  ones,  too. 

I  don't  think  it 's  right, 

And  I  don't  think  it's  fair, 

And  I  don't  like  Easter 
At  all !  so  there  ! 


MASTER   JACK'S   VIEWS. 

[After  a  lesson  in  astronomy, ,] 

THE  merry  old  World  goes  round,  goes  round, 
And  round  the  old  World  does  go  ; 
Day  in,  day  out,  from  west  to  east, 
At  a  pace  that  is  far  from  slow. 

And  he  's  never  been  known  to  change  his  pace, 
Or  swerve  an  inch  from  his  course, 
Though  his  journey  so  easily  shortened  might  be, 
By  cutting  his  orbit  across. 


MASTER    JACK'S    VIEWS.  139 

If  I  were  you,  you  silly  old  World, 

I  know  well  what  I  'd  do : 

Break  loose  from  that  tiresome  orbit-track, 

And  go  spinning  the  Universe  through. 

I  'd  startle  the  stars  from  their  morning  nap, 
With  a  "  How  do  you  do  to-day  ? " 
And  before  any  one  could  take  off  his  night-cap, 
I'd  be  millions  of  miles  away. 

I'd  warm  my  hands  at  the  gate  of  the  Sun, 
And  cool  them  off  at  the  Pole ; 
Then  off  and  away  down  the  Milky  Way, 
How  merrily  I  would  roll ! 

I'd  steal  from  Saturn  his  golden  rings, 
From  Mars  his  mantle  of  red  ; 
And  I'd  borrow  the  sword  of  Orion  the  brave, 
To  cut  off  the  Serpent's  head. 

I  'd  saddle  the  Bear,  and  ride  on  his  back, 
Nor  dream  of  being  afraid  ; 
And  maybe  I  'd  stop  at  the  Archer's  shop, 
To  see  how  the  rainbows  are  made. 

I  'd  race  with  the  comets,  I  'd  flirt  with  the  moon, 
I  'd  waltz  with  the  Northern '  Lights, 
Till  the  whole  Solar  System  should  hold  up  its  hands 
And  exclaim,  "  What  remarkable  sights !  " 

But  stay !  to  all  these  delightful  things 

One  slight  objection  I  see ; 

For  if  the  World  should  play  these  wonderful  pranks, 

Pray,  what  would  become  of  me  ? 


140  -kV   MY   NURSERY. 

And  what  would  become  of  papa  and  mamma  ? 
And  what  would  become  of  you  ? 
And  how  should  we  like  to  go  spinning  about, 
And  careering  the  Universe  through  ? 

Well,  the  merry  old  World  goes  round,  goes  round, 
And  round  the  old  World  does  go  ; 
And  a  great  deal  better  than  you  or  I, 
The  wise  old  World  must  know ! 


EMILY   JANE. 

OH  !  Christmas  time  is  coming  again, 
And  what  shall  I  buy  for  Emily  Jane  ? 

0  Emily  Jane,  my  love  so  true, 

Now  what  upon  earth  shall  I  buy  for  you  ? 
My  Emily  Jane,  my  doll  so  dear, 

1  've  loved  you  now  for  many  a  year, 

And  still  while  there  's  anything  left  of  you, 
My  Emily  Jane,  I  '11  love  you  true ! 

My  Emily  Jane  has  lost  her  head, 

And  has  a  potato  tied  on  instead  ; 

A  hole  for  an  eye,  and  a  lump  for  a  nose. 

It  really  looks  better  than  you  would  suppose. 

My  Emily  Jane  has  lost  her  arms, 

The  half  of  one  leg's  the  extent  of  her  charms; 

But  still,  while  there 's  anything  left  of  you, 

My  Emily  Jane,  I  '11  love  you  true ! 


SONG    OF    THE    MOTHER.  141 

And  now,  shall  I  bring  you  a  fine  new  head, 
Or  shall  I  bring  you  a  leg  instead  ? 
Or  will  you  have  arms,  to  hug  me  tight, 
When  naughty  'Lizabeth  calls  you  a  fright? 
Or  I  '11  buy  you  a  dress  of  satin  so  fine, 
'Mong  all  the  dolls  to  shimmer  and  shine ; 
For  oh !  while  there  's  anything  left  of  you, 
My  Emily  Jane,  I  '11  love  you  true ! 

Mamma  says,  "  Keep  all  your  pennies,  Sue, 

And  I  '11  buy  you  a  doll  all  whole  and  new ; " 

But  better  1  love  my  dear  old  doll, 

With  her  one  half-leg  and  potato  poll. 

"  The  potato  may  rot,  and  the  leg  may  fall  ? " 

Well,  then  I  shall  treasure  the  sawdust,  that 's  all ! 

For  while  there  is  anything  left  of  you, 

My  Emily  Jane,  I  '11  love  you  true ! 


SONG   OF  THE   MOTHER  WHOSE  CHILDREN   ARE 
FOND   OF  DRAWING. 

OH,  could  I  find  the  forest 

Where  the  pencil-trees  grow! 
Oh,  might  I  see  their  stately  stems 

All  standing  in  a  row ! 
I'd  hie  me  to  their  grateful  shade, 

In  deep,  in  deepest  bliss  ; 
For  then  I  need  not  hourly  hear 

A  chorus  such  as  this  : 


142  AY   MY   NURSERY. 

Chorus.     Oh,  lend  me  a  pencil,  please,  Mamma ! 

Oh,  draw  me  some  houses  and  trees,  Mamma ! 

Oh,  make  me  a  floppy 

Great  poppy  to  copy, 

And  a  horsey  that  prances  and  gees,  Mamma ! 

The  branches  of  the  pencil-tree 

Are  pointed  every  one ; 
Ay !  each  one  has  a  glancing  point 

That  glitters  in  the  sun. 
The  leaves  are  leaves  of  paper  white, 

All  fluttering  in  the  breeze  ; 
Ah  !  could  I  pluck  one  rustling  bough, 

I  'd  silence  cries  like  these : 

Chorus.     Oh,  lend  me  a  pencil,  do,  Mamma  ! 

I  've  got  mine  all  stuck  in  the  glue,  Mamma ! 

Oli,  make  me  a  pretty 

Big  barn  and  a  city, 

And  a  cow  and  a  steam-engine  too,  Mamma ! 

The  fruit  upon  the  pencil-tree 

Hangs  ripening  in  the  sun. 
In  clusters  bright  of  pocket-knives, — 

Three  blades  to  every  one. 
Ah !  might  I  pluck  one  shining  fruit, 

And  plant  it  by  my  door, 
The  pleading  cries,  the  longing  sighs, 

Would  trouble  me  no  more. 

Chorus.     Oh,  sharpen  a  pencil  for  me,  Mamma ! 

'Cause  Johnny  and  Baby  have  three,  Mamma! 

And  this  isn't  fine! 

And  Hal  sat  down  on  mine ! 

So  do  it  bee-yu-ti-fuRge,  Mamma  ! 


THE    SEVEN   LITTLE    TIGERS. 


143 


THE   SEVEN   LITTLE     TIGERS   AND   THE   AGED   COOK. 

SEVEN  little  tigers  they  sat  them  in  a  row, 
Their  seven  little  dinners  for  to  eat; 
And  each  of  the  troop  had  a  little  plate  of  soup, 
The  effect  of  which  was  singularly  neat. 

They  were  feeling  rather  cross,  for  they  had  n't  any  sauce 
To  eat  with  their  pudding  or  their  pie; 
So  they  rumpled  up  their  hair,  in  a  spasm  of  despair, 
And  vowed  that  the  aged  cook  should  die. 


Then  they  called  the  aged  cook,  and  a  frying-pan  they  took, 

To  fry  him  very  nicely  for  their  supper ; 

He  was  ninety-six  years  old,  on  authority  I'm  told, 

And  his  name  was  Peter  Sparrow-piper  Tupper. 

"  Mr.  Sparrow-piper  Tup,  we  intend  on  you  to  sup ! " 
Said  the  eldest  little  tiger  very  sweetly; 
But  this  naughty  aged  cook,  just  remarking,  "  Only  look  ! " 
Chopped  the  little  tiger's  head  off  very  neatly. 


144  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

Then  he  said  unto  the  rest,  "It  has  always  been  confessed 
That  a  tiger 's  better  eating  than  a  man  ; 
So  I'll  fry  him  for  you  now,  and  you  all  will  find,  I  trow. 
That  to  eat  him  will  be  much  the  better  plan." 


So  they  tried  it  in  a  trice,  and  found  that  it  was  nice, 

And  with  rapture  they  embraced  one  another ; 

And  they  said,  "  By  hook  or  crook,  we  must  keep  this  aged  cook  ; 

So  we  '11  ask  him  to  become  our  elder  brother." 

[  Which  they  accordingly  did.] 


AGAMEMNON.  145 


AGAMEMNON. 

ABOUT  a  king  I  have  to  tell, 

Of  all  the  woes  that  him  befell 

Through  those  who  should  have  served  him  well, 

Poor  Agamemnon  ! 

How  he  was  huffed  and  cuffed  about, 
And  tossed  from  windows,  in  and  out, 
With  jest  and  gibe  and  eldritch  shout, 

Poor  Agamemnon  ! 


Of  worsted  was  the  monarch  made, 
Of  gayest  colors  neatly  laid 
In  each  imaginable  shade, 

Poor  Agamemnon ! 
His  trousers  were  of  scarlet  hue. 
His  jacket  of  celestial  blue, 
With  snow-white  tunic  peeping  through, 

Poor  Agamemnon  ! 


When  he  was  young  and  in  his  prime, 
On  Christmas  tree,  in  Christmas  time, 
He  glowed  like  bird  of  tropic  clime, 
Poor  Agamemnon  ! 

10 


146  IK   MY   NURSERY. 

His  swarthy  cheek,  his  beard  of  brown, 
His  gay  attire  and  golden  crown, 
Showed  him  a  king  of  high  renown, 
Poor  Agamemnon ! 

The  children,  learning  then  to  pore 
O'er  Father  Homer's  god-like  lore, 
Cried,  "  See !  the  king  of  men  once  more, 

Great  Agamemnon  ! 
Now,  when  we  play  the  siege  of  Troy, 
Achilles,  Hector,  Ajax  boy, 
With  us  the  fighting  he  '11  enjoy, 

Great  Agamemnon !  " 

But  well-a-day !  the  war  began, 

And  Greek  and  Trojan,  man  to  man, 

In  god-like  fury  raged  and  ran, 

Poor  Agamemnon  ! 
'Twas  Ajax  seized  the  king,  I  trow, 
And,-  using  him  as  weapon  now, 
Did  smite  bold  Hector  on  the  brow, 

Poor  Agamemnon  ! 

Then  fierce  and  fell  the  contest  grew  ; 
From  hand  to  hand  the  monarch  flew, 
Still  clutched  and  hurled  with  fury  new, 

Poor  Agamemnon ! 

His  beaded  eyes  wept  tears  of  shame, 
His  worsted  cheeks  with  wrath  did  flame ; 
In  vain  he  called  each  hero's  name, 

Poor  Agamemnon  ! 


-  AGAMEMNON.  147 

At  length  great  Hector  seized  the  king 
And  gave  his  mighty  arm  a  swing, 
Then  upward  soared  with  sudden  fling, 

Poor  Agamemnon ! 
Upon  the  high-pitched  roof  fell  he, 
And  there,  from  Greek  and  Trojan  free, 
He  lay  for  all  the  world  to  see, 

Poor  Agamemnon ! 

The  fierce  sun  beat  upon  his  head, 
The  rain  washed  white  his  trousers  red, 
The  moon  looked  down  on  him  and  said, 

"  Poor  Agamemnon  !  " 
His  gold  and  blue  were  gray  and  brown, 
When  Ajax,  chief  of  high  renown, 
The  roof-tree  scaled,  and  brought  him  down, 
Poor  Agamemnon ! 

And  now  within  the  nursery, 
In  doll-house  parlor  you  may  see 
His  dim  and  faded  majesty, 

Poor  Agamemnon ! 
And  still  each  little  naughty  boy, 
Ranging  the  cupboards  for  some  toy, 
Cries  out,  "Aha !  the  siege  of  Troy ! 

Poor  Agamemnon!" 


148  IN   MY  NURSERY. 


THE   WEDDING. 

BLUE-BELL,  bonny  bell,  ring  for  the  wedding! 

Gallant  young  Hyacinth  marries  the  Rose. 
Here  we  all  wait  for  the  wedding  procession, 

Standing  up  high  on  our  tippy-toe-toes. 

Blue-bell,  bonny  bell,  ring  for  the  wedding! 

First  the  three  ushers  on  grasshoppers  ride, — 
Coxcomb,  Larkspur,  and  gallant  Sweet  William. 

Handsome  young  dandies  as  ever  I  spied. 

Here  in  a  coach  come  the  bride's  rich  relations, — 
Old  Madam  Damask  and  old  Mr.  Moss  ; 

Greatly  I  fear  they  approve  not  the  marriage, 
Else  they  'd  not  look  so  uncommonly  cross. 

Here  comes  His  Excellence  Baron  de  Goldbug, 
Leading  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Snail ; 

Feathers  and  fringe  on  the  top  of  her  bonnet, 
Roses  and  rings  on  the  end  of  her  tail. 

Blue-bell,  bonny  bell,  ring  for  the  wedding ! 

Here  come  the  bridesmaids,  by  two  and  by  two  ; 
Gay  little  Primrose,  fair  little  Snowdrop, 

Peachblossom,  Jasmine,  and  Eglantine  too. 

Last  come  the  lovers,  wrapped  up  in  each  other, 
Thinking  of  love,  and  of  little  beside. 

Blue-bell,  bonny  bell,  ring  for  the  wedding ! 
Health  and  long  life  to  the  beautiful  bride  ! 


SWING   SONG.  149 


SWING  SONG. 

As  I  swing,  as  I  swing, 
Here  beneath  my  mother's  wing, 
Here  beneath  my  mother's  arm, 
Never  earthly  thing  can  harm. 
Up  and  down,  to  and  fro, 
With  a  steady  sweep  I  go, 
Like  a  swallow  on  the  wing, 
As  I  swing,  as  I  swing. 

As  I  swing,  as  I  swing, 
Honey-bee  comes  murmuring, 
Humming  softly  in  my  ear, 
"  Come  away  with  me,  my  dear ! 
In  the  tiger-lily's  cup 
Sweetest  honey  we  will  sup." 
Go  away,  you  velvet  thing ! 
I  must  swing !   I  must  swing  ! 

As  I  swing,  as  I  swing, 
Butterfly  comes  fluttering, 
"  Little  child,  now  come  away 
'Mid  the  clover-blooms  to  play  ; 
Clover-blooms  are  red  and  white, 
Sky  is  blue,  and  sun  is  bright. 
Why  then  thus,  with  folded  wing, 
Sit  and  swing,  sit  and  swing  ? " 

As  I  swing,  as  I  swing, 
Oriole  comes  hovering. 
"  See  my  nest  in  yonder  tree ! 
Little  child,  come  work  with  me. 


150  IF   MY   NURSERY. 

Learn  to  make  a  perfect  nest, 
That  of  all  things  is  the  best. 
Come !    nor  longer  loitering 
Sit  and  swing,  sit  and  swing ! " 

As  I  swing,  as  I  swing, 
Though  I  have  not  any  wing, 
Still  I  would  not  change  with  you, 
Happiest  bird  that  ever  flew. 
Butterfly  and  honey-bee, 
Sure  't  is  you  must  envy  me, 
Safe  beneath  my  mother's  wing 
As  I  swing,  as  I  swing. 


THE   LITTLE   COSSACK. 

THE  tale  of  the  little  Cossack, 

Who  lived  by  the  river  Don : 

He  sat  on  a  sea-green  hassock, 

And  his  grandfather's  name  was  John. 

His  grandfather's  name  was  John,  my  dears, 

And  he  lived  upon  bottled  stout ; 

And  when  he  was  found  to  be  not  at  home, 

He  was  frequently  found  to  be  out. 

The  tale  of  the  little  Cossack, — 
He  sat  by  the  river-side, 
And  wept  when  he  heard  the  people  say 
That  his  hair  was  probably  dyed. 
That  his  hair  was  probably  dyed,  my  dears, 
And  his  teeth  were  undoubtedly  sham  ; 
"  If  this  be  true,"  quoth  the  little  Cossack, 
"  What  a  poor  little  thing  I  am ! " 


THE    LITTLE    COSSACK. 

The  tale  of  the  little  Cossack,— 

He  sat  by  the  river's  brim, 

And  he  looked  at  the  little  fishes, 

And  the  fishes  looked  back  at  him. 

The  fishes  looked  back  at  him,  my  dears, 

And  winked  at  him,  which  was  wuss ; 

"  If  this  be  true,  my  friend."  they  said, 

"  You  'd  better  come  down  to  us." 

The  tale  of  the  little  Cossack, — 
He  said,  "  You  are  doubtless  right, 
Though  drowning  is  not  a  becoming  death 
For  it  makes  one  look  like  a  fright. 
If  my  lovely  teeth  be  crockery, 
And  my  hair  of  Tyrian  dye, 
Then  life  is  a  bitter  mockery, 
And  no  more  of  it  will  I ! " 

The  tale  of  the  little  Cossack, — 
He  drank  of  the  stout  so  brown ; 
Then  put  his  toes  in  the  water, 
And  the  fishes  dragged  him  down. 
And  the  people  threw  in  his  hassock 
And  likewise  his  grandfather  John  ; 
And  there  was  an  end  of  the  family, 
On  the  banks  of  the  river  Don. 


152  W  MY  NURSERY. 


WHAT   A   VERY   RUDE   LITTLE   BIRD   SAID   TO 
JOHNNY   THIS   MORNING. 

THING  with  two  legs,  out  on  the  lawn ! 

Stupid  old  thing! 
Why  don't  you  fly,  or  hop  at  least  ? 

Why  don't  you  sing? 

There  you  stand  with  your  great  long  legs 
Stiff  as  a  couple  of  giant  pegs ; 
Have  you  a  nest  with  five  blue  -eggs  ? 

Have  you  anything? 

Thing  with  two  legs,  out  on  the  lawn ! 

Stubborn  old  thing! 
Is  that  your  only  song,  that  harsh, 

Loud  muttering  ? 

Here  !  listen,  and  try  to  imitate  me  ! 
Chirr-a-wink  !  chirr-a-wink  !  pirrip-wip-wee  ! 
It 's  just  as  easy  as  easy  can  be, 

Stubborn  old  thing! 

Thing  with  two  legs,  out  on  the  lawn, 

Ugly  old  thing ! 
I  hear  my  little  brown  wife  in  the  nest 

Soft  chirruping. 

And  if  you  think  I've  nothing  else  to  do 
But  stay  here  and  talk  to  the  like  of  you, 
You  're  greatly  mistaken,  I  tell  you  true ! 

Good-by,  old  thing! 


THE    MONKEYS    AND    THE    CROCODILE. 


153 


THE   MONKEYS  AND   THE 
CROCODILE. 

FIVE  little  monkeys 

Swinging  from  a  tree ; 
Teasing  Uncle  Crocodile, 

Merry  as  can  be. 
Swinging  high,  swinging  low, 

Swinging  left  and  right : 
"  Dear  Uncle  Crocodile, 

Come  and  take  a  bite ! " 

Five  little  monkeys 

Swinging  in  the  air ; 
Heads  up,  tails  up, 

Little  do  they  care. 
Swinging  up,  swinging  down, 

Swinging  far  and  near : 
"  Poor  Uncle  Crocodile, 

Aren't  you  hungry,  dear?" 


7 


154 


IN   MY 


Four  little  monkeys 
Sitting  in  the  tree  ; 
Heads  down,  tails  down, 
Dreary  as  can  be. 


Weeping  loud,  weeping  low. 
Crying  to  each  other : 

"  Wicked  Uncle  Crocodile, 
To  gobble  up  our  brother ! " 


OH,  the  pretty  painted  ladies ! 
Oh,  the  naughty  painted  ladies, 
That  go  running,  climbing,  running, 
All  about  my  cottage  door. 
Would  you  have  their  story,  Johnny  ? 
Sit  beside  me,  Sweet-and-bonny  ! 
You  shall  hear  a  sadder  story 
Than  you  ever  heard  before. 


156  IN  MY   NURSERY. 


These  were  maidens  fair  and  slender, 
Some  with  dove-eyes,  brown  and  tender, 
Some  with  black,  and  some  with  blue  eyes, 
Locks  of  auburn,  locks  of  gold. 
Rosy  cheeks,  and  lips  of  cherry, 
Voices  glad  and  laughter  merry, 
Ever  smiling,  ever  singing, 
Over  gay  and  over  bold. 

And  these  maids  were  ever  running, 
Watching  going,  watching  coming, 
Asking  questions  of  each  other 
And  of  every  one  they  knew. 
Peeping,  peeping,  here  and  yonder, 
Ready  still  to  guess  and  wonder, 
"  Was  it  she  ?  "  "  And  did  he  do  it  ?  " 
"Tell  me  quickly!"  "Tell  me  true!" 

Oh,  the  pretty  painted  ladies ! 

Oh,  the  naughty  painted  ladies ! 

When  the  king  came  riding,  riding, 

For  to  seek  him  out  a  bride, 

How  they  whispered,  how  they  chattered  ; 

Each  herself  in  secret  flattered 

She  could  win  him,  she  could  wed  him, 

In   an  hour,  if  she  tried. 

So  they  prinked  and  pranked  them  gayly, 
So  they  crimped  and  curled  them  daily, 
Trying  ring  and  trying  jewel, 
All  their  beauty  to  complete. 
Not  content  with  Nature's  roses, 
Fie !  their  cheeks  are  painted  posies ; 
And  their  lips  are  red  and   reddest, 
But  alas !  they  are  not  sweet. 


PAINTED    LADIES.  15J 

Then  the  king  came  riding  stately, 
On  his  charger  set  sedately, 
With  his  golden  robe  about  him, 
And  his  crown  upon  his  head. 
Oh !  a  royal  port  and  presence, 
Meet  for  courtly  love  and  pleasance ; 
Happy,  happy  is  the  maiden 
He  shall  woo  and  he  shall  wed. 

Oh,  the  pretty  painted  ladies ! 

Oh,  the  naughty   painted  ladies ! 

How  they  leaned  from  door  and  window, 

Flinging  roses  'neath  his  feet ; 

Silken  robes  and  jewels  shining, 

White   arms  waving,  tossing,  twining, 

Lips  that  laughed  and  eyes  that  languished, 

Over  bold  and  over  sweet. 

But  the  king  looked  gravely  on  them  ; 

Cast  no  answering  glance  upon  them ; 

Coldly  turned  from  where  they   waited 

In  their  beauty,   in  their  pride. 

"  Find  me  out  some  modest  maiden, 

Not  with  silks  and  jewels  laden, 

One  whose  pureness,  one  whose  sweetness 

Fit  her  for  a  royal  bride." 

Oh,    the  pretty  painted  ladies! 
Oh,   the  naughty  painted  ladies ! 
Red  with  shame  and   white  with  anger, 
Back  they  pressed  against  the  wall. 
As  they  drew  their  silks  around  them, 
Lo !  some  sudden  magic  bound  them, 
While  they  whispered,  while  they  clustered, 
Into  flowers  changed  them  all. 


158  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

Glowing  cheek  and  snowy  bosom 

Changed  to  white  and  ruddy   blossom ; 

Locks  of  gold  and  locks  of  auburn 

Into  tendrils  curling  green. 

While  for  silk  and  satin's  shimmer, 

And  for  jewels'  rainbow  glimmer, 

Leaves  that  whispered,  leaves  that  clustered, 

Only  these  were  to  be  seen.  « 

But  the  pretty  painted  ladies, 
But  the  naughty  painted  ladies, 
Still  are  running,  climbing,  running, 
At  the  window,  at  the  door. 
Peeping,  peeping,  here  and  yonder, 
"Is  the  story  true?"  you  wonder; 
Sure,  I  heard  it  from  themselves,  dear, 
For  they  tell  it  o'er  and  o'er. 


SOME   FISHY   NONSENSE. 

TIMOTHY  TIGGS  and  Tomothy  Toggs, 

They  both  went  a-fishing  for  pollothywogs  ; 

They  both  went  a-fisliing 

Because  they  were  wishing 
To  sde  how  the  creatures  would  turn  into  frogs. 

Timothy  Tiggs  and  Tomothy  Toggs, 
They  both  got  stuck  in  the  bogothybogs ; 

They  caught  a  small  minnow, 

And  said  't  was  a  sin  oh ! 
That  things  with  no  legs  should  pretend  to  be  frogs. 


LADY'S   SLIPPER. 

Y  lady  she  rose  from  her  bower,  her  bower, 

All  under  the  linden  tree. 
'T  was  midnight  past,  and  the  fairies'  hour, 
And  up  and  away  must  she. 


160  m   MY   NURSERY. 

She  's  pulled  on  her  slippers  of  golden  yellow, 

Her  mantle  of  gossamer  green  ; 
And  she  's  away  to  the  elfin  court, 

To  wait  on  the  elfin  queen. 

Oh  hone  !    my  lady's  slipper, 

Oh  hey !   my  lady's  shoe. 
She  's  lost  its  fellow,  so  golden  yellow, 

A-tripping  it  over  the  dew. 

And  now  she  flitted,  and  now  she  stepped, 
Through  dells  of  the  woodland  deep, 

Where  owls  were  flying  awake,  awake, 
And  birds  were  sitting  asleep. 

And  now  she  flitted,  and  now  she  trod, 
Where  the  mist  hung  shadowy-white ; 

And  the  river  lay  gleaming,  sleeping,  dreaming, 
Under  the  sweet  moonlight. 

Oh  hone  !    my  lady's  slipper, 

Oh  hey  !    my  lady's  shoe. 
She  's  lost  its  fellow,  so  golden  yellow, 

A-tripping  it  over  the  dew. 

And  now  she  passed  through  the  wild  marsh-land, 
Where  the  marsh-elves  lay  asleep  ; 

And  a  heron  blue  was  their  watchman  true, 
Good  watch  and  ward  for  to  keep. 

But  Jack-in-the-Pulpit  was  wake,  awake, 

And  saw  my  lady  gay ; 
And  he  reached  his  hand  as  she  fluttered  past, 

And  caught  her  slipper  away. 


A    LITTLE    SONG    TO    SING.  161 

Oh  hone !    my  lady's  slipper, 

Oh  hey  !   my  lady's  shoe. 
She  's  lost  its  fellow,  so  golden  yellow, 

A-tripping  it  over  the  dew. 

Oh  !   long  that  lady  she  searched  and  prayed, 

And  long  she  wept  and  besought ; 
But  all  would  not  do,  and  with  one  wee  shoe 

She  must  dance  at  the  elfin  court. 

But  she  might  have  found  her  slipper,  her  slipper, 

It  shone  so  golden-gay  ; 
For  I  am  no  elf,  yet  I  found  it  myself, 

And  I  brought  it  home  to-day. 

Oh  hone  !    my  lady's  slipper, 

Oh  hey  !   my  lady's  shoe. 
She  's  lost  its  fellow,  so  golden  yellow, 

A-tripping  it  over  the  dew. 


A   LITTLE  SONG   TO   SING  TO  A   LITTLE   MAID 
IN   A  SWING. 

IF  I  were  a  fairy  king, 

(Swinging  high,  swinging  low,) 

I  would  give  to  you  a  ring, 
(Swinging  oh !) 

With  a  diamond  set  so  bright 

That  the  shining  of  its  light 

Should  make  morning  of  the  night, 
(Swinging  high,  swinging  low,) 

Should  make  morning  of  the  night. 

(Swinging  oh  !) 
11 


162  IN   MY   NURSE R  T. 

On  each  ringlet  as  it  fell 

(Swinging  high,  swinging  low,) 
I  would  tie  a  golden  bell ; 

(Swinging  oh  !) 

And  the  golden  bells  would  chime 
In  a  little  merry  rhyme, 
In  the  merry  summer-time, — 

(Swinging  high,  swinging  low,) 
In  the  happy  summer-time. 

(Swinging  oh!) 


You  should  wear  a  satin  gown 

(Swinging  high,  swinging  low,) 
All  with  ribbons  falling  down ; 

(Swinging  oh !) 
And  your  little  darling  feet, 
Oh,  my  Pretty  and  my  Sweet, 
Should  be  shod  with  silver  neat,  — 

(Swinging  high,  swinging  low,) 
Shod  with  silver  slippers  neat. 

(Swinging  oh  !) 


All  the  flowers  in  the  land 

(Swinging  high,  swinging  low,) 
You  should  hold  in  either  hand  ; 

(Swinging  oh  !) 
And  the  myrtle  and  the  rose 
Should  spring  up  beneath  your  toes, 
For  to  gratify  your  nose, — 

(Swinging  high,  swinging  low,) 
For  to  gratify  your  nose. 

(Swinging  oh  !) 


BETTY  IN  BLOSSOM-TIME.  163 

But  I'm  not  a  fairy,  Pet, 

(Swinging  high,  swinging  low,) 
Am  not  even  a  king  as  yet; 

(Swinging  oh  !) 
So  all  that  I  can  do 
Is  to  kiss  your  little  shoe, 
And  to  make  a  queen  of  you,  — 

(Swinging  high,  swinging  low,) 
Make  a  fairy  queen  of  you. 

(Swinging  oh !) 


BETTY  IN  BLOSSOM-TIME. 

SNOW,  snow,  down  from  the  apple-trees, 

Pink  and  white  drifting  of  petals  sweet, 

Kiss  her  and  crown  her,  our  Lady  of  Blossoming, 

Here  as  she  sits  on  the  apple-tree  seat. 

Has  she  not  gathered  the  summer  about  her? 
Look,  how  it  laughs  from  her  lips  and  her  eyes ! 
Think  you  the  sun  there  would  shine  on  without  her? 
Nay !   't  is  her  smile  keeps  the  gray  from  the  skies. 

Fire  of  the  rose  and  snow  of  the  jessamine, 

Gold  of  the  lily-dust  hid  in  her  hair ; 

Day  holds  his  breath  and  Night  comes  up  to  look  at  her, 

Leaving  their  strife  for  a  vision  so  rare. 

Snow,  snow,  down  from  the  apple-trees, 

Pink  and  white  drifting  of  petals  sweet, 

Kiss  her  and  crown  her,  and  flutter  a-down  her, 

And  carpet  the  ground  for  her  dear  little  feet. 


164  IN   MY  NURSERY. 


BETTY'S   SONG. 

LITTLE  TWO-SHOES, 

Little  Toddle-toes, 
Like  a  little  pretty  pinky  winky  rose, 

Come  to  me,  now, 

And  we  '11  see,  now, 
How  the  rocking-chair  away  to  By-land  goes. 

With  a  heigh  ho, 

And  a  by-low, 
And  a  swinging,  swinging  softly  to  and  fro  ; 

With  a  sleepy  croon, 

All  about  the  moon, 
How  she  puts  the  sleepy  stars  to  beddy  oh  ! 

With  a  hey-day, 

And  a  rock-away, 
And  a  patting  down  the  hands  that  want  to  play  ; 

With  a  swing  swong 

In  the  drowsy  song, 
That  forgets  the  drowsy  words  it  has  to  say. 

Now  the  lids  close, 

Just  when  no  one  knows, 
And  the  dimpled  flush  grows  deeper,  rose  on  rose. 

Little  Two-shoes, 

Little  Toddle-toes, 
With  the  rocking-chair  away  to  By-land  goes. 


A    NONSENSE    TRAGEDY. 


165 


A  NONSENSE  TRAGEDY. 


BROWN  owl  sat  on  a  caraway  tree, 
Ruffly,  puffly,  great  big  owl ; 
Who  so  learned  and  wise  as  he  ? 
Huffly,  snuffly,  eminent  fowl. 

Black  bat  hung  by  a  twig  of  the  tree, 
Blinkety,  winkety,  blind  old  bat ; 
Paying  his  court  to  the  bumble-bee, 
Fuzzy  bee,  buzzy  bee,  yellow  and  fat. 


"  Oh ! "  said  the  owl,  "  but  the  sun  is  so  bright. 
Blazing,  crazing,  fiery  sun, 
How  can  I  possibly  wait  till  night  ? 
Sweltering,  meltering,  not  much  fun ! " 


"Oh!"  said  the  bat,  "if  a  cloud  would  come, 
Showery,  lowery,  nice  gray  cloud, 
I  'd  take  my  love  to  my  cavern  home, 
Happily,  flappily,  pleased  and  proud." 

"  Oh ! "  said  the  bee,  "  but  if  that  be  all, 
Whimpering,  simpering,  blear-eyed  bat, 
Yonder 's  a  cloud  coming  up  at  your  call, 
Scowling,  growling,  black  as  your  hat." 


166 


IN  MY   NURSERY. 

"  Oh  ! "  said  the  owl  and  the  bat  together : 
"  Rollicky,  jollicky,  nice  fat  cloud, 
Give  us  some  good,  black,  thundery  weather ; 
Roar  away,  pour  away,  can't  be  too  loud ! " 


Up  came  the  cloud,  spreading  far  and  wide, 
Billowy,  pillowy,  black  as  night ; 
Brisk  little  hurricane  sitting  inside, 
Blow  away,  strow  away,  out  of  sight. 

Off  went  the  owl  like  a  thistle-down  puff, 
Ruffly,  huffly,  rolled  in  a  ball ; 
Off  went  the  bat  like  a  candle-snuff, 
Fly  away,  die  away,  terrible  fall. 


A    NONSENSE    TRAGEDY. 

Off  went  the  twig,  and  off  went  the  tree, 

Crashing,  smashing,  splintering  round ; 

Nothing  was  left  but  the  bumble-bee, 

And  who  so  merry,  so  merry  as  she, 

As  she  laughed,  "  Ho !  ho ! "  as  she  laughed,  "  He !  he ! 

Creep  away,  sleep  away,  hole  in  the  ground." 


167 


168  IN   MY  NURSERY. 


FROM  NEW  YORK  TO  BOSTON. 

[Allegro   con   moto.] 

HERE  we  go  skilfully  skipping, 
Riding  the  resonant  rail ; 
Conductor  the  tickets  is  clipping, 
Boy  has  bananas  for  sale. 
Raindrops  outside  are  a-dripping, — 
Dripping  o'er  meadow  and  vale. 
Here  we  go  skilfully  skipping, 
Riding  the  resonant  rail. 

Clankety  clankety  clank, 
Clinkety  clinkety  cling; 
Five  little  boys  on  a  bank, 
One  little  girl  in  a  swing. 
Fishhawk  o'erhead  in  the  distance, 
Spreading  his  wings  like  a  sail. 
Here  we  go  skilfully  skipping, 
Riding  the  resonant  rail. 

"  Puck,   Life,  Frank  Leslie,  and  Harper ! 
Latest  editions,  just  out !  " 
Boy  is  an  impudent  sharper ! 
All  are  last  week's,  I  've  no  doubt. 
"  Every  new  monthly  and  weekly, 
Every  new  novel  and  tale ! " 
Here  we  go  skilfully  skipping, 
Riding  the  resonant  rail. 


FROM  NEW    YORK    TO    BOSTON.  169 

Jogglety  jogglety  joggle! 
Jigglety  jigglety  jig! 
Snuffy  old  man  with  a  goggle, 
Acid  old  dame  with  a  wig, 
Pretty  girl  peacefully  sleeping 
Under  her  gold-spotted  veil. 
Here  we  go  skilfully  skipping, 
Riding  the  resonant  rail. 

Now  we  are  duly  admonished, 
Hartford's  the  place  we  reach  next; 
Cow  in  the  field  looks  astonished, 
Sheep  in  the  pasture  perplexed. 
Furious  puppy  pursues  us, 
Cocking  a  truculent  tail. 
Here  we  go  skilfully  skipping, 
Riding  the  resonant  rail. 

"  Lozenges,  peanuts,  and  candy ! 
Apples  and  oranges  sweet ! " 
Legs  are  so  frightfully  bandy, 
Wonder  he  keeps  on  his  feet. 
1  'All  the  New  York  evening  papers,— 
Times,  Tribune,  World,  Sun,  and  Mail!" 
Here  we  go  skilfully  skipping, 
Riding  the  resonant  rail. 

Engine  goes  "  Whoosh  ! "  at  the  station, 
Engine  goes  "  Whizz  !  "  o'er  the  plain ; 
Horses  express  consternation, 
Drivers  remonstrate  in  vain. 
Smoke-witches  dancing  about  us, 
Sparks  in  a  fiery  train. 
Here  we  go  skilfully  skipping, 
Riding  the  resonant  rail. 


170  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

Tinklety  tinklety  tiuk ! 
Tunklety  tunklety  tunk ! 
Nearing  the  station,  I  think. 
Where  is  the  check  for  my  trunk  ? 
"  Boston !  "  and  "  Boston  !  "  and  "  Boston ! " 
Home  of  my  fathers,  all  hail ! 
Here  we  go  joyfully  jumping, 
Away  from  the  resonant  rail. 


SANDY   GODOLPHIN. 

SANDY  GODOLPHIN  sat  up  on  the  hill, 

And  up  on  the  hill  sat  he ; 

And  the  only  remark  he  was  known  to  make, 

Was  "  Fiddledy  diddledy  dee  !  " 

He  made  it  first  in  the  high  Hebrew, 

And  then  in  the  Dutch  so  low, 

In  Turkish  and  Russian  and  Persian  and  Prussian, 

And  rather  more  tongues  than  I  know. 

He  made  this  remark  until  it  was  dark, 

And  he  could  no  longer  see ; 

Then  he  lighted  his  lamp,  because  it  was  damp, 

And  gave  him  the  neuralgee. 

Sandy  Godolphin  came  down  from  the  hill, 
And  moaned  in  a  dark  despair : 
"  I  've  finished, "  said  he,  "  with  my  fiddledy  dee, 
For  nobody  seems  to  care." 


MY   CLOCK.  171 


MY   CLOCK. 

MY  little  clock,  my  little  clock, 
He  lives  upon  the  shelf; 
He  stands  on  four  round  golden  feet, 
And  so  supports  himself. 

His  face  is  very  white  and  clean, 
His  hands  are  very  black  ; 
He  has  no  soap  to  wash  them  with, 
And  suffers  from  the  lack. 

He  holds  them  up,  his  grimy  hands, 

And  points  at  me  all  day ; 

"•  Make  haste,  make  haste,  the  moments  waste ! " 

He  always  seems  to  say. 

"  Tick  took !  tick  tock  !  I  am  a  clock  ; 
I  'm  always  up  to  time. 
Ding  dong !  ding  dong !  the  whole  day  long 
My  silver  warnings  chime. 

"  Tick  tock  !  tick  tock !  't  is  nine  o'clock, 
And  time  to  go  to  school ; 
Don't  loiter  'mid  the  buttercups, 
Or  by  the  wayside  pool. 


172  IN  MY  NURSERY. 

"  Ding  dong !  tick  tock  !  't  is  two  o'clock. 
The  dinner's  getting  cold; 
You  'd  better  hurry  down,  you  child, 
Or  your  mamma  will  scold. 

"  Tick  tock  !  tick  tock !  't  is  six  o'clock. 
You  've  had  the  afternoon 
To  play  and  romp,  so  now  come  in ; 
Your  tea '11  be  ready  soon. 

"Tick  tock!  tick  tock!  'tis  nine  o'clock. 
To  bed,  to  bed,  my  dear ! 
Sleep  sound,  until  I  waken  you, 
When  day  is  shining  clear." 

So  through  the  night  and  through  the  day, 
My  busy  little  clock, 
He  talks  and  talks  and  talks  away, 
With  ceaseless  "  tick  "  and  "  tock." 

But  warning  others  on  his  shelf, 
All  earnest  as  he  stands, 
He  never  thinks  to  warn  himself ; 
He'll  never  wash  his  hands. 


MY  UNCLE  JEHOSHAPHAT. 

MY  Uncle  Jehoshaphat  had  a  pig, — 

A  pig  of  high  degree ; 
And  he  always  wore  a  brown  scratch  wig. 

Most  beautiful  for  to  see. 


174  -EV  MY   NURSERY. 

My  Uncle  Jehoshaphat  loved  this  pig, 
And  the  piggywig  he  loved  him  ; 

And  they  both  jumped  into  the  lake  one  day, 
To  see  which  best  could  swim. 

My  Uncle  Jehoshaphat  he  swam  up, 
And  the  piggywig  he  swam  down; 

And  so  they  both  did  win  the  prize, 
Which  the  same  was  a  velvet  gown. 

My  Uncle  Jehoshaphat  wore  one  half, 
And  the  piggywig  wore  the  other  ; 

And  they  both  rode  to  town  on  the  brindled  calf, 
To  carry  it  home  to  its  mother. 


ROSY  POSY. 

THERE  was  a  little  Rosy, 
And  she  had  a  little  nosy ; 
And  she  made  a  little  posy, 
All  pink  and  white  and  green. 
And  she  said,  "Little  nosy, 
Will  you  smell  my  little  posy  ? 
For  of  all  the  flowers  that  growsy, 
Such  sweet  ones  ne'er  were  seen." 

So  she  took  the  little  posy, 
And  she  put  it  to  her  nosy, 
On  her  little  face  so  rosy, 
The  flowers  for  to  smell ; 
And  which  of  them  was  Rosy, 
And  which  of  them  was  nosy, 
And  which  of  them  was  posy, 
You  really  could  not  tell ! 


SICK-ROOM  FANCIES. 


175 


SICK-ROOM  FANCIES. 


I. 


MY  WALL-PAPER. 

THE  paper  roses,  blue  and  red, 
That  climbing  go  about  my  bed, 
All  up  and  down  my  chamber  wall, 
A-quarrelling  one  day  did  fall ; 
And  as  with  half-shut  eyes  I  lay, 
'T  was  thus  I  heard  the  roses  say : 

"  You  vulgar  creature ! "  cried  the  Red, 
"  I  wonder  you  dare  raise  your  head, 
Much  less  go  flaunting  here  and  there 
With  such  a  proud  and  perky  air. 
I  am  a  rose  indeed ;  but  you ! 
Who  ever  heard  of  roses  blue  ? 
Your  sense  of  truth,  Ma'am,  must  be  small, 
To  call  yourself  a  rose  at  all." 


176 


IN   MY   NURSERY. 

The  Blue  Rose  proudly  raised  her  head  ; 

"  Your  humble  servant,  Ma'am  !  "  she  said. 

"  My  family,  I  own,  is  far 

From  being  such  as  you,  Ma'am,  are. 

We  blossomed  lately  in  the  sky, 

A  fairy  plucked  us,  floating  by, 

And  flung  us  down  to  earth,  that  we 

Might  show  what  roses  ought  to  be. 

So,  while  we  still  adorn  the  earth, 

Our  hue  attests  our  skyey  birth." 


Just  then  my  Rose  came  through  the  room; 
And  in  her  hand,  in  wondrous  bloom, 
A  lovely  snow-white  bud  she  bore, 
With  diamond  dew-drops  sprinkled  o'er. 


SICK-ROOM  FANCIES. 

She  laid  it  in  my  hand,  and  "  See," 
She  said,  "  how  fair  a  rose  may  be ! " 
The  paper  roses,  Blues  and  Reds, 
For  shame  hung  down  their  silly  heads. 
I  watched  them,  laughing,  as  I  lay, 
But  not  another  word  said  they. 


II. 


MY  JAPANESE   FAN. 


LL- 


I  HAVE  a  friend,  a  little  friend, 
Who  lives  upon  a  fan ; 
Perhaps  he  is  a  woman, 
Perhaps  she  is  a  man. 


19 


178  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

His  clothes  they  are  so  very  queer, 
So  very  queer,  in  sooth, 
I  sometimes  call  him  "  lovely  maid," 
And  sometimes  "  gentle  youth." 

Her  hair  is  combed  up  straight  and  smooth 

Above  his  pretty  face. 

His  looks  are  full  of  friendliness; 

Her  attitude,  of  grace. 

And  every  morning  when  I  wake, 

And  every  evening  too, 

She  greets  me  with  his  pleasant  smile, 

And  friendly  "How-d'ye-do?" 

She  wonders  why  I  lie  in  bed ; 

He  thinks  my  wisest  plan 

Would  be  to  come  and  live  with  her 

Upon  a  paper  fan. 

But  that,  alas !  can  never  be  ; 

And  so  1  never  can 

Know  whether  he 's  a  woman, 

Or  whether  she 's  a  man. 


MARJORIE'S  KNITTING. 

IN  the  chimney-corner  our  Marjorie  sits, 
Softly  sinking  the  while  she  knits. 
The  fire-lip;ht,  flickering  here  and  there, 
Plays  on  her  face  and  her  shining  hair; 


180 


IN   MY   NURSERY. 

And  glimmering  bright  in  the  fitful  glow, 
Backward  and  forward  her  needles  go,  — 
Backward  and  forward,  swift  and  true,— 
And  hark  !  the  needles  are  singing  too. 

"  One  and  two  and  three  and  four, 
Counting  and  narrowing  o'er  and  o'er; 
Knit  and  rib  and  seam  and  purl. 
Clickety  clackety,  good  little  girl !  " 

And  what  is  our  Marjorie  knitting,  I  pray  ? 
A  soft,  warm  scarf,  for  a  wintry  day, 
A  pair  of  mittens  for  schoolboy  Fred, 
Or  some  reins  for  toddling  Baby  Ned  ? 


I  cannot  see,  in  the  twilight  gray, 
How  many  needles  are  working  away ; 
But  I  see  them  flickering  in  and  out, 
And  they  know  exactly  what  they  are  about. 

"  One  and  two  and  three  and  four 
Counting  and  narrowing  o'er  and  o'er; 
Knit  and  rib  and  seam  and  purl. 
Clickety  clackety,  good  little  girl ! " 


MARJORIE' S    KNITTING. 

The  fire  is  whispering,  "  Marjorie  mine, 

'T  is  a  positive  pleasure  on  you  to  shine, 

From  your  pretty  brown  hair,  all  shining  and  neat, 

Down  to  your  dainty,  trim-slippered  feet." 

The  kettle  is  murmuring,  "  Marjorie  dear, 
'T  is  all  for  your  sake  that  I  'm  bubbling  here ; 
But  though  I  have  bubbled  both  loud  and  long. 
You  've  ears  for  nought  save  those  needles'  song." 


181 


"  One  and  two  and  three  and  four, 
Counting  and  narrowing  o'er  and   o'er ; 
Knit  and   rib  and  seam  and   purl. 
Clickety  clackety,  good  little  girl ! " 

Marjorie  cheerily  works  away, 

Nor  ever  her  thoughts  from  her  knitting  stray. 

Whatever  it  is,  't  will  be  sure  to  fit, 

For  loving  thoughts  in  the  web  are  knit. 


182  IN  MY   NURSERY. 

The  kettle  may  bubble,  the  fire  may  burn, 
But  Marjorie's  thoughts  they   cannot  turn  ; 
And  I  think  my  heart  must  be  working  too. 
For  it  seems  to  sing  as  the  needles  do. 

"One  and  two  and  three  and  four, 
Counting  and  narrowing  o'er  and   o'er ; 
Knit  and  rib  and  seam  and  purl. 
Clickety  clackety,  dear  little  girl ! " 


HE   AND   HIS   FAMILY. 

His  father  was  a  whale, 

With  a  feather  in  his  tail, 

Who  lived  in  the  Greenland  sea ; 

And  his  mother  was  a  shark, 

Who  kept  very  dark 

In  the  Gulf  of  Caribbee. 

His  uncles  were  a  skate, 

And  a  little  whitebait, 

And  a  flounder,  and  a  chub  beside ; 

And  a  lovely  pickerel, 

Both  a  beauty  and  a  belle, 

Had  promised  for  to  be  his  bride. 

You  may  think  these  things  are  strange, 

And  they  are  a  little  change 

From  the  ordinary  run,  't  is  true ; 

But  the  queerest  thing  (to  me) 

Of  all  appeared  to  be, 

That  lie  was  a  kangaroo ! 


IN   MY  NURSERY.  183 


EASTER-TIME. 

THE  little  flowers  came  through  the  ground, 

At  Easter-time,  at  Easter-time ; 
They  raised  their  heads  and  looked  around, 

At  happy  Easter-time. 

And  every  pretty  bud  did  say, 

"  Good  people,  bless  this  holy  day ; 

For  Christ  is  risen,  the  angels  say, 

This  happy  Easter-time." 

The  scarlet  lily  raised  its  cup, 

At  Easter-time,  at  Easter-time; 
The  crocus  to  the  sky  looked  up, 

At  happy  Easter-time. 

"  We  hear  the  song  of  heaven !  "   they  say ; 
"  Its  glory  shines  on  us  to-day, 
Oh!   may  it  shine  on  us  alway, 
At  happy  Easter-time." 

'T  was  long  and  long  and  long  ago, 

That  Easter-time,  that  Easter-time ; 
But  still  the  scarlet  lilies  blow 

At  happy  Easter-time. 
And  still  each  little  flower  doth  say, 
"Good  Christians,  bless  this  holy  day; 
For  Christ  is  risen,  the  angels  say, 

At  blessed  Easter-time." 


184  IN   MY    NURSERY. 


EASTER. 

GIVE  flowers  to  all  the  children, 
This  blessed  Easter  Day,— 

Fair  crocuses  and  snowdrops, 
And  tulips  brave  and  gay  ; 

Bright  nodding  daffodillies, 

And  purple  iris  tall, 
And  sprays  of  silver  lilies, 

The  loveliest  of  all. 

And  tell  them,  tell  the  children, 
How  in  the  dark,  cold  earth, 

The  flowers  have  been  waiting- 
Till  spring  should  give  them  birth. 

All  winter  long  they  waited. 

Till  the  south  wind's  soft  breath 

Bade  them  rise  up  in  beauty, 
And  bid  farewell  to  death. 

Then  tell  the  little  children 
How  Christ  our  Saviour,  too, 

The  flower  of  all  eternity, 

Once  death  and  darkness  knew. 


JACKY  FROST.  185 

How,  like  these  blossoms,  silent, 

Within  the  tomb  he  lay  ; 
Then  rose  in  light  and  glory, 

To  live  in  heaven  alway. 

So  take  the  flowers,  children, 

And  be  ye  pure  as  they ; 
And  sing  of  Christ  our  Saviour, 

This  blessed  Easter  Day. 


JACKY   FROST. 

JACKY  Frost,  Jacky  Frost, 

Came  in  the  night  ; 
Left  the  meadows  that  he  crossed 

All  gleaming  white. 
Painted  with  his  silver  brush 

Every  window-pane  ; 
Kissed  the  leaves  and  made  them  blush, 

Blush  and  blush  again. 

Jacky  Frost,  Jacky  Frost, 

Crept  around  the  house, 
Sly  as  a  silver  fox, 

Still  as  a  mouse. 
Out  little  Jenny  came, 

Blushing  like  a  rose ; 
Up  jumped  Jacky  Frost, 

And  pinched  her  little  nose. 


186  SUBTRACTION. 


SUBTRACTION. 

Six  from  four  leaves  two,  Mamma, 
Six  from  four  leaves  two. 
Surely  that  is  right,   Mamma, — 
Don 't  you  think  't  will  do  ? 

Please  don't  shake   your  head,  Mamma  ! 
"Well,  it 's  nearly   right ; 
And  what  difference  does  it  make 
If  it   is  n't  quite  ? 

Hark!  the  boys  are  there,  Mamma, 
Out  upon  the  lawn ; 
If  I  don't  go  soon,  Mamma, 
They  will  all  be  gone. 

/  would  let  you  go,  Mamma, 

Were  I  teaching  you. 

Six  from  four  leaves  two — oh  dear! 

Four  from  six  leaves  two,  Mamma! 
Now  I  have  it  right. 
Well !  upon  my   word,  I  think 
I  wasn't  very  bright. 

Dear  Mamma,  before  I  go, 
Here  's  a  kiss  for  you. 
Four  from  six  leaves  two,  hurrah! 
Four  from  six  leaves  two ! 


GRANDFATHER    DEAR.  187 


GRANDFATHER   DEAR. 

[  Written  for  Decoration  Day.] 

JONQUIL  and  daffodil  mine, 

Lift  me  your  golden-crowned  heads ! 

Cockscomb  and  peony  fine, 

Lend  me  your  lordliest  reds! 

Tying  my  posy  up  here, 

I  must  have  flowers  at  will; 

They  are  for  Grandfather  dear, 

There  where  he  sleeps  on  the  hill. 

Grandfather  dear  was  a  soldier, 
Gallant  and  handsome  and  young. 
Flowers,  I  '11  show  you  his  picture, 
Over  the  shelf  where  't  is  hung. 
Yes,  and  his  sword  hangs  beneath  it. 
The  sword  that  he  waved  as  he  fell, 
Fighting  on  Winchester  Field,  — 
The  field  he  was  holding  so  well. 

So  when  the  year  's  at  the  sweetest, 

Mother  and  Grandmother  dear 

And  I,  we  go  gathering  flowers, 

So  sweet  as  they  're  blossoming  here. 

And  when  Grandfather  looks  down  from  heaven, 

As  he  looks,  and  looks  lovingly  still, 

He  smiles  as  he  sees  his  own  flowers, 

All  shining  and  sweet  on  the  hill. 


188 


IN   MY   XCItSERY. 


GATHERING  APPLES. 

DOWN  in  the  orchard,  down  in  the  orchard, 

Under  the  gold-apple  tree, 

One  little  maid  and  two  little  maids 

Frolic,  merry  and  free. 

Brown  as  a  berry,  red  as  a  rose, 

Sweeter  maidens  nobody  knows. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Marjorie  ? 

Marjorie,  tell  to  me  ?  " 

Up  she  lifted  her  curly  head, 

(Oh,  but  her  cheeks  were  rosy-red!) 

Shaking  her  curls  right  saucily, 

"  I  'm  gathering  apples  !  "  said  she,  said  she, 

"  I  'm  gathering  apples !  "  said  she. 

Down  in  the  orchard,  down  in  the  orchard, 

Under  the  gold-apple  tree, 

Softly  treading,  the  farmer  came, 

Peeping  so  warily. 

Six  feet  high  from  his  head  to  his  toes ; 

A  jollier  farmer  nobody  knows. 


GATHERING    APPLES. 


189 


"  What  are  you  doing,  farmer,  pray  ? 

Jolly  old  farmer,  say  ! " 

Up  he  caught  them  both  in  his  arms ; 

Oh,  the  shrieks,  the  merry  alarms ! 

Closer  clasping  them  lovingly, 

"I'm  gathering  apples!"  said  he,  said  he, 

"I'm  gathering  apples!"  ffp^k^  said  he. 


190  ^-Y   MY   NURSERY. 


THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  BEACH. 

"  TAKE  off  thy  stockings,  Samuel ! 

Now  take  them  off,  I  pray ; 
Roll  up  thy  trousers,  Samuel, 

And  come  with  me  to  play. 

"  The  ebbing  tide  has  left  the  sand 
All  hard  and  smooth  and  white, 

And  we  will  build  a  goodly  fort, 
And  have  a  goodly  fight." 

Then  Samuel  he  pulled  off 

His  hose  of  scarlet  hue, 
And  Samuel  he  rolled  up 

His  breeches  darkly  blue. 

And  hand-in-hand  with  Reginald, 
He  hied  him  to  the  beach ; 

Each  little  boy  a  shovel  had, 
And  eke  a  pail  had  each. 

Then  down  upon  the  shining  sand 

Right  joyfully  they  sat; 
And  far  upon  the  shining  sand 

Each  tossed  his  broad-brimmed  hat. 

Then  valiantly  to  work  they  went, 
Like  sturdy  lads  and  true; 

And  there  they  built  a  stately  fort, 
The  best  that  they  might  do. 


THE    BALLAD    OF    THE    BEACH.  191 

"Now  sit  we  down  within  the  walls, 

Which  rise  above  our  head, 
And  we  will  make  us  cannon-balls 

Of  sand,  as  good  as  lead." 

Now  as  they  worked,  these  little  boys, 

Full  glad  in  heart  and  mind, 
The  creeping  tide  came  back  again, 

To  see  what  it  could  find. 

The  creeping  tide  came  up  the  sand, 

To  see  what  it  could  do ; 
And  there  it  found  two  broad-brimmed  hats, 

With  ribbons  red  and  blue. 

And  "  See  now ! "   said  the  creeping  tide  ; 

"  These  hats  belong,  I  trow, 
To  Reginald  and  Samuel ; 

1  saw  them  here  but  now." 

And  "  See  now ! "   said  the  creeping  tide ; 

"  What  hinders  me  to  float 
These  hats  out  to  the  boys'  mamma, 

Is  sailing  in  a  boat?" 

Then  up  there  came  two  little  waves, 

All  rippling  so  free ; 
They  lifted  up  the  broad-brimmed  hats, 

And  bore  them  out  to  sea. 

The  ribbons  red  and  ribbons  blue 

Streamed  gallantly  away; 
The  straw  did  glitter  in  the  sun, 

Were  never  craft  so  gay ! 


192  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

The  mother  of  these  little  lads 

Was  sailing  on  the  sea ; 
And  now  she  laughed,  and  now  she  sang, 

And  who  so  blithe  as  she  ? 

And  u  Look  !  "   she  said  ;   "  what  things  be  these 

That  dance  upon  the  wave, 
All  fluttering  and  glittering 

And  sparkling  so  brave  ? 

"  Now  row  me  well,  my  brethren,  twain, 

Now  row  me  o'er  the  sea! 
For  we  will  chase  these  tiny  craft, 

And  see  what  they  may  be." 

They  rowed  her  fast,  they  rowed  her  well, — 

Too  well,  those  gallants  true ; 
For  when  she  reached  the  broad-brimmed  hats,  , 

Right  well  those  hats  she  knew. 

"  Alas  ! "    she  cried ;   "  my  little  lads 

Are  drowned  in  the  sea ! " 
Then  down  she  sank  in  deadly  swoon, 

As  pale  as  she  might  be. 

They  rowed  her  well,  those  gallants  gay, 

They  rowed  her  to  the  land ; 
They  lifted  up  that  lady  pale, 

And  bore  her  up  the  strand. 

But  as  they  bore  her  up  the  beach, 

The  balls  began  to  fly, 
And  hit  those  gallants  on  the  nose, 

And  hit  them  in  the  eye. 


THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  BEACH.          193 

They  looked  here,  they  looked  there, 

To  see  whence  this  might  be ; 
And  soon  they  spied  a  stately  fort, 

Beside  the  salt,  salt  sea. 

And  straight  from  out  the  stately  fort 

The  balls  were  flying  free; 
Each  gallant  rubbed  his  smitten  nose, 

And  eke  his  eye  rubbed  he. 

They  looked  within  the  stately  fort, 

To  see  who  aimed  so  well ; 
And  there  was  little  Reginald, 

And  youthful  Samuel. 

i 

They  lifted  up  those  little  lads, 

Each  by  his  waisty-band ; 
And  down  beside  that  lady  pale 

They  set  them  on  the  sand. 

And  first  that  lady  waxed  more  pale, 

And  syne  she  waxed  full  red  ; 
And  syne  she  kissed  those  little  boys, 

But  not  a  word  she  said. 

Then  up  and  spoke  those  gallants  gay, 

"  You  naughty  little  chaps, 
Your  poor  mamma  you  've  frightened  sore, 

And  made  her  ill,  perhaps. 

"And  if  you  are  not  shaken  well, 

And  if  you  are  not  spanked, 
It  will  not  be  your  uncles'  fault ; 

So  they  need  not  be  thanked." 

13 


194  IN   MY  NURSERY. 

Then  up  and  spoke  those  little  lads, 

All  mournful  as  they  sat; 
And  each  did  cry,  "  Ah,  woe  is  me ! 

I  've  lost  —  my  nice  —  new  —  hat ! " 

Then  up  and  spoke  that  lady  fair, 
"  Nay,  nay,  my  little  dears, 

You  sha'  n't  be  spanked !   so  come  with  me, 
And  wipe  away  your  tears. 

"  There  be  more  hats  in  Boston  town, 

For  little  boys  to  wrear; 
And  as  for  those  that  you  have  lost, 

I  pray  their  voyage  be  fair. 

"  For  since  I  have  my  little  lads, 

The  hats  may  sail  away 
Around  the  world  and  back  again, 

Forever  and  a  day  !  " 


THE   BOOTS   OF  A   HOUSEHOLD. 

[After  Mrs.  Hemans.~] 

THEY  came  in  beauty,  side  by  side, 
They  filled  one  house  with  noise; 
And  now  they're  trotting  far  and  wide, 
On  feet  of  girls  and  boys. 

The  self-same  shoemaker  did  bend 
O'er  every  heel  and  toe; 
Shaped  all  their  upper  leathers  fair, — 
Where  are  those  leathers  now  ? 


THE    BOOTS    OF   A    HOUSEHOLD. 

One  pair  is  kicking  'gainst  the  bench, 
The  patient  bench,  at  school ; 
And  two  are  wading  through  the  mud, 
And  splashing  in  the  pool. 

"  The  sea,  the  blue,  lone  sea,"  hath  one. 
He  left  it  on  the  beach ; 
A  merry  wave  came  dancing  up, 
And  bore  it  out  of  reach. 

One  sleeps  where  depths  of  slimy  bog 
Are  glossed  with  grasses  o'er ; 
One  hasty  plunge  —  it  loosed  its  hold, 
And  sank  to  rise  no  more. 

One  pair  —  aha!  I  see  them  now, 
And  know  them  past  all  doubt ; 
For  through  each  leather,  gaping  wide, 
A  rosy  toe  peeps  out. 

And  parted  thus,  old,  dusty,  torn, 
They  travel  far  and  wide, 
Who  in  the  shop,  in  shining  rows, 
Sat  lately  side  by  side. 

And  thus  they  frolic,  frolic  there, 
And  thus  they  caper  here ; 
But  great  and  small,  and  torn  and  all, 
To  mother's  heart  are  dear. 

[N.  B.  —  Also  to  father's  purse.] 


IT'S  far  away  under  the  water, 
And  it's  far  away  under  the  sea, 
There 's  a  beautiful  palace  a-waiting 
For  my  little  Rosy  and  me. 


The  roof  is  made  of  coral, 
And  the  floor  is  made  of  pearl, 
And  over  it  all  the  great  waves  fall 
With  a  terrible  tumble  and  whirl. 


THE    PALACE. 

The  fishes  swim  in  at  the  witidow, 

And  the  fishes  swim  out  at  the  door, 

And  the  lobsters  and  eels  go  dancing  quadrilles 

All  over  the  beautiful  floor. 


There's  a  silver  throne  at  one  end, 
And  a  golden  throne  at  the  other ; 
And  on  them  you  see,  as  plain  as  can  be, 
"  Queen  Rosy  "  and  "  Queen  Mother." 

And  I  will  sit  on  the  silver  throne, 

And  Rosy  shall  sit  on  the  gold  ; 

And  there  we  will  stay,  and  frolic  and  play, 

Until  we're  a  thousand  vears  old. 


-!HWP--  - 


198 


IN   MY   NURSERY. 


BUNKER   HILL   MONUMENT. 


Do  you  sec  that  stately  column, 

Children  dear, 
Lifting  its  gray  head  to  heaven, 

Year  by  year  ? 
Telling  of  the  battle  fought, 
Telling  of  the  good  work  wrought, 
Telling  of  the  victory  bought, 

Bought  so  dear! 

Oh !   the  costly  blood  that  flowed, 

Children  mine  ! 
Fast  as  from  the  purple  grapes 

Flows  the  wine ! 
Oh !   the  heroes  lying  dead  ! 
Oh  !   the  women's  hearts  that  bled ! 
Oh  !   the  bitter  tears  they  shed, 

Children  mine  ! 


Long  ago  the  tears  were  dried, 

Children  dear ! 
Long  ago  the  weepers  died, 

Year  by  year. 

But  the  column  old  and  gray 
Tells  the  story  day  by  day. 
"  Victory  !  "  it  seems  to  say. 

"Victorv's  here!" 


MAY.  199 


MAY. 

Is  there  anything  new  to  sing  about  you, 

May,  my  dear  ? 
Any  unhackneyed  thing  about  you, 

Pray,  niy  dear  ? 

Anything  that  has  not  been  sung 
Long  ago,  when  the  world  was  young, 
By  silver  throat  and  golden  tongue  ? 

Say,  my  dear ! 

So  many  have  said  that  your  eyes  are  blue, 

May,  my  dear ; 
It  must  be  a  tiresome  fact,  though  true, 

May,  my  dear. 

And  if  I,  for  one,  my  gracious  Queen, 
Should  boldly  assert  that  your  eyes  are  green, 
'T  would  be  a  relief  to  you,  I  ween. 

Eh,  my  dear  ? 

We  know,  at  the  touch  of  your  garment's  fold, 

May,  my  dear, 
The  daisies  come  starring  with  white  and  gold 

The  way,  my  dear; 

We  know  that  the  painted  blossoms  all 
Come  starting  up  at  your  gentle  call, 
By  dale  and  meadow  and  garden  wall, 

May,  my  dear. 


200  IN   MY   NUBSERY. 

We  know  that  your  birds  have  the  sweetest  tuney 

May,  my  dear ; 
And  lovers  love  best  beneath  your  moon, 

They  say,  my  dear. 

And  I  might  add  that  your  perfumed  kiss 
Is  considered  productive  of  highest  bliss ; 
But  you  must  be  so  tired  of  hearing  this. 

Eh,  my  dear  ? 

No,  I  really  don't  think  there's  anything  fresh 

Or  new,  my  dear ; 
For  life  is  short,  and  available  rhymes 

Are  few,  my  dear. 

So  if  I  say  nought  about  vernal  bowers, 
And  forbear  to  mention  the  sunlit  showers, 
I  think  I  shall  make  the  best  use  of  my  powers. 

Don't  you,  my  dear  ? 

And  yet  —  yet  I  cannot  help  loving  you  so, 

May,  my  dear, 
That  the  old  words,  whether  I  will  or  no, 

I  say,  my  dear. 

And  how  you  are  fair,  and  how  you  are  sweet, 
My  loving  lips  forever  repeat,  — 
And  is  this  the  reason  you  pass  so  fleet  ? 

Ah,  stay,  my  dear ! 


GREGORY   GRIGGS. 


201 


GREGORY    GRIGGS. 

GREGORY  GRIGGS,  Gregory  Griggs, 

Had  forty-seven  different  wigs  ; 

He  wore  them  up,  and  he  wore  them  down, 

To  please  the  people  of  Boston  town. 

He  wore  them  east,  and  he  wore  them  west, 

But  he  never  could  tell  which  he  liked  the  best. 


202 


IN  MY   NURSERY. 


A  NURSERY   TRAGEDY. 

IT  was  a  lordly  elephant, 
His  name,  his  name  was  Sprite ; 
He  stood  upon  the  nursery  floor, 
All  ready  for  a  fight. 


He  looked  upon  the  rocking-horse, 
Who  proudly  prancing  stood: 
"  0  rocking-horse  !  0  shocking  horse  ! 
I  'm  thirsting  for  your  blood ! 


"  How  dare  you  stand  and  look  at  me, 
You  ugly  snorting  thing? 
Know,  that  of  every  living  beast, 
The  elephant  is  king! 


A    NURSERY    TRAGEDY.  203 

"And  if  a  person  looks  at  me, 
Unless  I  give  him  leave, 
He 's  very  apt  to  meet  his  death 
Too  swiftly  for  reprieve. 

"  You  are  the  most  unpleasant  beast 
I  e'er  have  looked  on  yet; 
Although  the  stupid  children  here 
Will  make  of  you  a  pet. 

"I  hate  your  tail  of  waving  hair! 
I  hate  your  bits  of  brass ! 
But  more,  oh,  more  than  all,  I  hate 
Your  gleaming  eyes  of  glass ! 

"  Were  you  of  cotton-flannel  made, 
As  nursery  beasts  should  be, 
With  eyes  of  good  black  boot-buttons, 
You  then  might  look  at  me. 

"I  might  forgive  your  want  of  tusks, 
Your  lack  of  trunk  forgive ; 
But  that  wild,  goggling,  glassy  glare  — 
No !  never,  while  I  live ! 

"  So  get  you  gone,  you  rocking-horse ! 
Go  to  your  closet-shed, 
And  there,  behind  the  wood-basket, 
Conceal  your  ugly  head  !  " 


204 


IN   MY   NURSERY. 

But  as  the  elephant  thus  did  scold 
And  rage  and  fume  and  roar, 
The  rocking-horse  rocked  over  him, 
And  crushed  him  to  the  floor. 


THE  UMBRELLA   BRIGADE. 


"  FITTER  patter  !  "  falls  the  rain 
On  the  school-room  window-pane. 
Such  a  plashing!   such  a  dashing! 
Will  it  e'er  be  dry  again? 
Down  the  gutter  rolls  a  flood, 
And  the  crossing  's  deep  in  mud ; 
And  the  puddles!   oh,  the  puddles 
Are  a  sight  to  stir  one's  blood! 


Chorus. 

But  let  it  rain 

Tree-toads  and  frogs,   " 

Muskets  and  pitchforks,  | 

Kittens  and  dogs ! 

Dash  away  !   plash  away  !  | 

Who  is  afraid  ? 

Here  we  go, 

The  Umbrella  Brigade ! 


1 


206  W   MY   NURSERY. 

Pull  the  boots  up  to  the  knee  ! 
Tie  the  hoods  on  merrily  ! 
Such  a  hustling !    such  a  jostling ! 
Out  of  breath  with  fun  are  we. 
Clatter,  clatter,  down  the  street, 
Greeting  every  one  we  meet, 
With  our  laughing  and  our  chaffing, 
AVhich  the  laughing  drops  repeat. 

Chorus.     So  let  it  rain 

Tree-toads  and  frogs, 

Muskets  and  pitchforks, 

Kittens  and  dogs  ! 

Dash  away  !    plash  away  ! 

Who  is  afraid  ? 

Here  we  go, 

The  Umbrella  Brigade  ! 


THE    PRINCESS    IN  SATURN.  207 


THE  PRINCESS  IN  SATURN  AND   THE  RED   MAN   IN 

MARS. 

THERE  once  was  a  princess  both  fair  and  tall, 

Who  did  not  live  on  this  earth  at  all. 

She  lived  up  in  Saturn, 

And  she  was  a  pattern 

Of  every  accomplishment,  great  and  small ; 

The  graces  and  virtues,  she  had  them  all. 

Greek,  Latin,  and  Hebrew,  she  had  them  pat; 

And  she  played  on  the  sackbut !   think  of  that ! 

And  she  sang  so  sweet, 

All  the  birds  at  her  feet 

With  envy  and  sorrow  fell  down  quite  flat; 

I  've  been  told  they  fell  down  quite  remarkably  flat. 

Now  all  the  princes  and  all  the  kings 

Who  lived  in  Saturn  and  all  his  rings, 

They  came  and  knelt 

Where  the  princess  dwelt  ; 

And  they  brought  her  all  sorts  of  beautiful  things, — 

Oh !   quite  an  assortment  of  elegant  things. 

For  one  king  brought  her  a  diamond  hat; 

And  another  presented  a  two-legged  cat; 

While  another  one  said, 

"  When  my  uncle  is  dead, 

I  will  give  you  his  monkey.     Be  sure  of  that! 

His  talented  monkey  ;   depend  upon  that !  " 


008  IN   MY  NURSERY. 

One  powerful  prince,  with  a  haughty  stride, 

Came  forward  and  said,  "  If  you  '11  be  my  bride, 

You  shall  have  the  Great  Bear 

To  powder  your  hair, 

And  the  small  one  to  lace  up  your  boots  beside,— 

To  lace  up  your  boots,  and  to  shine  them  beside." 

But  the  princess  sighed ;    and  softly  she  said, 

"  Alas !    not  one  of  you  all  can  1  wed. 

'T  is  my  positive  plan 

To  marry  a  man 

Who  lives  up  in  Mars,  and  is  painted  red,— 

From  his  head  to  his  feet,  quite  a  violent  red. 

'•  I  have  often  looked  through  my  opera-glass, 
And  up  and  down  I  have  seen  him  pass ; 
And  so  bright  was  his  hue, 
And  so  lovely  to  view, 
I  felt  that  in  him  lay  my  fate,  alas ! 
1  read  in  his  red  my  own  fate,  alas ! 

';  So  now,  if  you  love  me  as  fond  and  true 

As  all  of  you  think  that  all  of  you  do, 

You  will  help  me  to  wed 

My  '  Study  in  Red.' 

Oh,  kings  and  princes,  now  pray  you,  do ! 

You  dear  kings  and  princes,  I  beg  of  you,  do  !  " 

The  kings  and  princes  arose  with  a  frown, 

And  first  they  looked  up,  and  then  they  looked  down. 

Not  a  man  of  them  spoke 

Till  he  'd  straightened  his  cloak, 

And  settled  his  wig,  and  adjusted  his  crown. 


THE   PRINCESS   IN   SATURN. 


210  IN  MY   NURSERY. 

And  then,  "  If  you  honestly  wish,"  they  said, 

"  To  marry  a  man  who  is  painted  red  " 

(In  Saturn,  I  ween, 

All  the  people  are  green), 

"  We  don't  know  that  there  's  anything  more  to  be  said, 

Your  Highness,  there  seems  nothing  more  to  be  said." 

So  they  called  a  comet,  and  told  him  to  go 

To  the  Red  Man  in  Mars,  and  give  him  to  know 

That  a  princess  in  Saturn, 

Of  virtues  the  pattern, 

Desired  to  marry  him,  whether  or  no, — 

Was  determined  to  marry  him,  whether  or  no. 

Away  whizzed  the  comet,  and  soon  he  came 

To  the  Red  Man  in  Mars,  and  called  him  by  name. 

And  telling  his  news, 

Begged  him  not  to  refuse 

To  send  back  an  answer  at  once  to  the  same, — 

"  Just  you  make  up  your  mind  in  regard  to  the  same  !  " 

But  the  Red  Man  sighed,  and  mournfully  said, 

"  My  friend,  't  is  our  law  that  all  wives  must  be  red  ; 

And  if  I  should  be  seen 

With  a  wife  who  is  green, 

Our  king  would  be  apt  at  removing  my  head,  — 

Not  a  moment  he  'd  lose  in  removing  my  head. 

"  But  if  the  young  lady  (who  's  surely  most  kind), 

Could  in  any  way  make  up  her  princessly  mind 

To  turn  herself  red, 

It  need  hardly  be  said 

That  a  lover  devoted  in  me  she  would  find,  - 

That  a  husband  adoring  in  me  she  would  find." 


THE    PRINCESS    IN  SATURN.  211 

The  comet  whizzed  back  with  the  answer  again, 

And  the  kings  and  the  princes  received  it  with  pain. 

"  Sure,  the  princess's  green 

Has  so  brilliant  a  sheen, 

That  the  thought  of  a  change  is  exceedingly  vain, — 

The  idea  of  a  change  is  prepost'rously  vain." 

But  when  the  princess  this  message  heard, 

She  said,  "  I  see  nothing  in  this  that  's  absurd." 

Then  to  blush  she  began; 

And  she  blushed  till  the  Man 

In  Mars  was  less  ruddy  by  half,  on  my  word, — 

Less  red  by  a  generous  half,  on  my  word ! 

She  blushed  over  cheek  and  lip  and  brow, 

From  her  fair  little  head  to  her  trim  little  toe. 

And  her  hat  and  her  shoe, 

And  her  farthingale  too, 

They  blushed  just  as  red  as  herself,  I  vow.  — 

They  blushed  for  the  love  of  herself,  I  vow. 

She  blushed  till  the  Northern  Lights  grew  pale; 

And  the  Scorpion  danced  on  the  tip  of  his  tail; 

And  the  Red  Man  came 

In  a  fiery  flame, 

And  cried,  "  My  bee-yutiful  bride,  all  hail ! 

My  blushing,  bee-yutiful  bride,  all  hail !  " 

And  so  they  were  married,  both  he  and  she, 

And  the  color  of  both  was  quite  scarlet  to  see. 

And  they  lived,  the  tale  says, 

To  the  end  of  their  days, 

As  happy,  as  happy,  as  happy  could  be : 

Sure,  no  other  couple  so  happy  could  be. 


212  IN  MY  NURSERY. 

For  she  loved  him  in  Hebrew,  and  likewise  in  Greek, 

And  the  Latin  tongue  also  she  freely  did  speak. 

And  the  sackbut  she  'd  play 

Every  hour  in  the  day, 

Till  the  Red  Man  in  Mars  would  with  ecstasy  squeak, 

Till  her  cochineal  husband  with  rapture  would  squeak. 

But  the  people  in  Saturn  were  sad,  I  ween, 

And  evermore  greener  they  grew,  and  more  green ; 

And  the  princes  and  kings 

Said  such  heartbreaking  things, 

In  these  mirth-loving  pages  they  must  not  be  seen  : 

I  really  must  stop, 

And  the  subject  must  drop, 

For  it  won't  do  at  all  for  such  things  to  be  seen. 


WIGGLE  and  Waggle  and  Bubble  and  Squeak, 
They  went  their  fortunes  for  to  seek ; 
They  went  to  sea  in  a  chicken-coop, 
And  they  lived  on  mulligatawney  soup. 

Wiggle  and  Waggle  and  Bubble  and  Squeak, 
They  cooked  their  soup  every  day  in  the  week ; 
They  cooked  their  soup  in  a  chimney-pot, 
For  there  the  water  was  always  hot. 

Wiggle  and  Waggle  and  Bubble  and  Squeak, 
Each  gave  the  other  one's  nose  a  tweak ; 
They  tweaked  so  hard  that  it  took  their  breath, 
And  so  they  met  an  untimely  death. 


WHAT  !  take  Gret  Gran'f  ther's  musket, 
Thet  he  kerried  at  Bunker  Hill, 
An'  go  a-gunnin'  fer  sparrers 
With  Solomon  Judd  an'  Bill? 

You  let  thet  musket  alone,  Dan'l ! 
An'  git  down  from  thet  air  stool. 
You've  just  time  enough  to  hold  this  yarn 
Afore  ye  go  off  to  school. 


Thar !  don't  ye  wriggle  an'  twist,  sonny ! 
The  yarn 's  fer  yer  own  new  socks ; 
It's  safer  to  hold  than  muskets, 
With  their  triggers  an'  riggers  an'  locks. 


214  IF  MY  NURSERY. 

A  musket  to  shoot  at  sparrers ! 

Wai,  boys  is  up  to  sech  tricks  ! 

An'  thet  old  un,  too,  thet  ain't  ben  tetched 

Sence  seventeen  seventy-six ! 

But  I  set  more  store  by  its  rusty  stock, 
Than  the  finest  money  could  buy ; 
An'  if  you  '11  stan'  stiddy,  Dan'l, 
I'll  tell  ye  the  reason  why. 

You  never  seed  Gret  Gran'f  ther, 

But  you  've  seed  his  pictur,  boy, 

With  the  smilin'  mouth,  an'  the  big  brown  eyes 

Jes'  brimmin'  with  life  and  joy. 

Wai !  he  war'  n't  like  thet  when  I  seed  him, 
But  his  sperrit  was  lively  still, 
Fer  all  his  white  hair  an'  empty  sleeve, 
As  it  was  at  Bunker  Hill. 

An'  many's  the  time  he's  told  me, 

Settin'  here  in  this  very  cheer, 

Of  the  fust  time  he  shouldered  thet  musket, 

In  the  Continental  year. 

% 

How  out  in  the  field  a-mowin', 

He  seed  the  bay'nets  glance, 

An'  ran  fer  his  gun  with  a  lighter  heart 

Than  ever  he  went  to  a  dance. 

Jest  as  he  was,  —  in  his  shirt-sleeves 
(Fer  the  day  was  warm  and  bright), 
An'  no  hat,  —  but  shoulderin'  his  musket, 
Gret  Gran'f'ther  went  to  the  fight. 


GRET    GRANT' THER. 


215 


An'  thar  upon  Bunker  hillside, 
Whar  the  smoke  hung  thick  a.n'  gray. 
He  went  a-gunnin'  fer  redcoats, 
As  you'd  go  fer  sparrers  to-day. 


216  IN  MY   NURSERY. 

Hey !  but  the  balls  were  whistlin'  ! 
An'  the  flashes  keni  thick  an'  fast ; 
But  whose-ever  musket  hed  fust  word, 
Gret  Gran'f'ther's  hed  the  last. 

Then  a  gunner  was  shot  beside  him, 
Thet  handled  a  six-pound  gun, 
An'  they  called  fer  a  man  to  tend  her; 
An'  Gran'f  ther  said  he  was  one. 

"  I  ain't  never  fired  a  gun,"  said  he, 
"  But  I  '11  do  my  pridef  ul  best ; 
An'  ef  all  you  want  is  a  man,  Colonel, 
Mebbe  I  'in  as  good  as  the  rest." 

An'  I  reckon  he  was !  fer  he  stood  thar, 
An'  fired  thet  six-pound  gun, 
Till  every  redcoat  within  his  range 
Hed  either  dropped  or  run. 

Then  all  of  a  suddent  thar  kem  a  crack, 

A  flash  an'  a  twinge  an'  a  thrill, 

An'  Gran'f'ther's  right  arm  dropped  by  his  side, 

An'  hung  thar,  limp  an'  still. 

Jest  fer  a  moment,  I  've  heard  him  say, 
The  hull  world  seemed  to  reel ; 
An'  a  hummin'  sound  went  through  his  ears, 
Like  Gran'm'ther's  spinnin'-wheel. 

But  he  hed  n't  no  time  for  faintin', 

Nor  he  hed  n't  no  time  for  pain ; 

"  It 's  well  I  'm  left-handed  !  "  says  Gran'f'ther, 

An'  he  fired  the  srun  again. 


GRET    GRAN'F'THER.  217 

Bimeby,  when  the  Colonel  found  him, 
Arter  the  fight  was  done, 
He  was  lyin,'  all  black  like  a  nigger, 
An"  senseless,  along  by  his  gun. 

Then  the  boys  made  a  kind  o'  stretcher, 
An'  jest  as  they  laid  him  a-top, 
"  The  balls  was  all  gone,"  he  says,  "  Colonel, 
So  I  was  obleeged  to  stop." 

Yes!  thet  was  the  way  Gret  Gran'f'ther  fit, 
An'  the  way  he  lost  his  arm ; 
But  he  shot  with  his  left  till  the  land  was  free, 
An'  then  he  kem  back  to  the  farm. 

An'  he  laid  his  musket  acrost  them  hooks, 
An'  thar  it's  laid  to  this  day; 
An'  spite  o'  you  an'  the  sparrers,  Dau'l, 
Thar's  whar  it's  a-goin'  to  stay. 

The  school-bell !  run  now,  sonny  boy  ! 

An'  thank  ye  fer  standin'  still. 

What 's  thet  ?     Ay  !  Hurrah  fer  Gret  Gran'f'ther ! 

An'  hurrah  fer  Bunker  Hill ! 


DAY   DREAMS. 

WHITE  wings  over  the  water, 
Fluttering,  fluttering  over  the  sea, 
White  wings  over  the  water, 
What  are  you  bringing  to  me  ? 
A  fairy  prince  in  a  golden  boat, 
With  golden  ringlets  that  fall  and  float, 
A  velvet  cap,  and  a  taffety  cloak, 
This  you  are  bringing  to  me. 

Fairy,  fairy  princekin, 
Sailing,  sailing  hither  to  me, 
Silk  and  satin  and  velvet, 
What  are  you  coming  to  see  ? 
A  little  girl  in  a  calico  gown, 
With  hair  and  eyes  of  dusky  brown, 
Who  sits  on  the  wharf  of  the  fishing-town, 
Looking  away  to  sea. 


DAY   DREAMS. 


220 


IN  MY   NURSERY. 

Golden,  golden  sunbeams, 
Touch  me  now  with  your  wands  of  gold ; 
Make  me  a  beautiful  princess, 
Radiant  to  behold. 


DAT  DREAMS. 

Blue  and  silver  and  ermine  fine,   . 
Diamond  drops  that  flash  and  shine; 
So  shall  I  meet  this  prince  of  mine, 
Fairer  than  may  be  told. 

White  wings  over  the  water, 
Fluttering  ever  farther  away ; 
Dark  clouds  shrouding  the  sunbeams, 
Sullen  and  cold  and  gray. 
Back  I  go  in  my  calico  gown, 
Back  to  the  hut  in  the  fishing-town. 
And  oh,  but  the  night  shuts  darkly  down 
After  the  summer  day  ! 


222  IN  MY   NURSERY. 

THE  BATTLE. 

[All  the  children  march,  each  singing  a  verse  in  turn,  and  all  joining  in  the  refrain.~\ 

I  AM  a  German, 

Marching,  marching. 
I  am  a  German, 

Turn  turn  turn  ! 
Musket  on  shoulder, 
Who  could  be  bolder, 
Tramping  away  at  the  sound  of  the  drum. 

Chorus.     Bang  !  bang  !  bang  ! 

Hear  the  touskets  rattle  ! 
Bang  !  bang !  bang !  bang  ! 
Now  we'll  have  a  battle. 
Shoot  'em  through  the  head, 
Run  'em  through  the  body ! 
He  who  runs  away 
Is  called  a  Hoddy-Doddy.1 

[Repeat  after  each  verse. ] 

I  am  a  Frenchman, 
,  Marching,  marching. 
I  am  a  Frenchman, 

Turn  turn  turn  ! 
First  at  the  front, 
I  will  bear  the  battle's  brunt, 
Tramping  away  at  the  sound  of  the  drum. 

1 "  Though  you're  such  a  Hoddy-Doddy!"  —  Edward  Lear. 


THE    BATTLE.  223 

I  am  an  Englishman, 

Marching,  marching. 
I  am  an  Englishman, 

Turn  turn  turn  ! 
Let  the  foeman  meet  me ! 
Where 's  the  one  to  beat  me  ? 
Tramping  away  at  the  sound  of  the  drum. 

I  am  an  Irishman, 

Marching,  marching. 
I  am  an  Irishman, 

Turn  turn  turn ! 
When  the  battle 's  ready, 
Who'll  be  there  but  Paddy? 
Tramping  away  at  the  sound  of  the  drum. 

[All  together."] 

We  are  the  regiment, 
Marching,  marching. 
We  are  the  regiment, 

Turn  turn  turn ! 
Let  the  trumpets  blow, 
As  we  rush  to  meet  the  foe, 
With  a  tan  tan  tara!   at  the  sound  of  the  drum. 


224  IN  MY  NURSERY. 


THE   STRANGE   BEAST. 

FOUR  gay  gallants  of  London  town 
Went  out  to  walk  on  Horsley  Down  ; 

And  there  they  saw  a  beast, 
The  like  of  which  had  ne'er  been  seen 
In  Cheapside  or  in  Strand,  I  ween, 

In  West-side  or  in  East. 

Its  legs  were  four,  its  tail  was  one, 
So  one  gallant  swore  by  the  sun 

It  therefore  was  a  horse ; 
"  Nay ! "  cried  the  next,  "  this  talk  is  idle. 
If  't  were  a  horse,  't  would  have  a  bridle, 

A  saddle,  too,  of  course." 

"It  has  a  horn,  you  will  perceive, 
We  '11  therefore  call  it,  by  your  leave, 

A  unicorn  of  pride." 
The  others  vowed  by  stick  and  fiddle 
The  unicorn  wore  his  horn  in  the  middle, 

And  not  upon  the  side. 

"I  call't  a  lion!"  said  the  third. 

"Nay!"  cried  the  fourth,  "that's  too  absurd! 

The  creature  has  no  mane. 
To  one  who  has  a  judgment  fair, 
It  would  appear  to  be  a  bear; 

And  this  I  will  maintain." 


A    GARDEN  JINGLE.  225 

The  beast  (I  '11  tell  the  secret  now ! 
'T  was  Farmer  Giles's  one-horned  cow, 

Her  other  horn  was  broken) 
Advanced,  meanwhile,  toward  the  four, 
And  as  'twas  supper-time  and  more, 

Mooed  loud,  by  way  of  token. 


With  shriek  and  scream  those  gallants  gay 
To  London  town  fled  back  away, 

As  fast  as  they  might  fare. 
And  when  at  home  they  stopped  to  rest  'em, 
A  whole  menagerie  had  chased  'em, 

As  every  one  could  swear. 


A   GARDEN  JINGLE. 

THREE  little  peas, 

Three  little  peas, 

Three  little  peas  in  a  pod. 

The  pod  it  was  green, 

And  fair  to  be  seen, 

But  they  wanted  to  go  abroad. 

And  "  Oh,"  said  they, 

"  To  be  far  away, 

Out  in  the  air  so  green ! 

To  flutter  and  fly 

Like  the  birds  that  go  by! 

We  would  envy  nor  king  nor  queen." 
15 


226  IN   MY   NURSERY. 

Three  little  peas, 

Three  little  peas, 

Three  little  peas  in  a  pod. 

My  Harry  he  took  them, 

And  rattled  and  shook  them, 

And  fired  them  all  abroad. 

The  first  one  fell 

Right  into  the  well, 

And  learned  how  to  float  and  swim. 

The  second  did  fly 

Into  Roderick's  eye, 

And  sorely  disgusted  him. 

But  the  third  little  pea, 
Right  venturesomely, 
Straight  up  in  the  air  it  flew ; 
And  it  stared  in  surprise 
With  both  of  its  eyes, 
To  find  that  the  air  was  blue. 


THE  BABY   GOES   TO   BOSTON. 

WHAT  does  the  train  say  ? 

Jiggle  joggle,  jiggle  joggle ! 
What  does  the  train  say? 

Jiggle  joggle  jee  ! 
Will  the  little  baby  go 
Riding  with  the  locomo  ? 
Loky  moky  poky  stoky 

Smoky  choky  chee  ! 


THE    BABY   GOES    TO    BOSTON.  227 

Ting !  ting !  the  bells  ring, 

Jiggle  joggle,  jiggle  joggle! 
Ting  1  ting !  the  bells  ring, 

Jiggle  joggle  jee! 
Ring  for  joy  because  we  go 
Riding  with  the  locomo, 
Loky  inoky  poky  stoky 

Smoky  choky  chee  ! 

Look  !  how  the  trees  run, 

Jiggle  joggle,  jiggle  joggle! 
Each  chasing  t'  other  one, 

Jiggle  joggle  jee ! 
Are  they  running  for  to  go 
Riding  with  the  locomo  ? 
Loky  moky  poky  stoky 

Smoky  choky  chee ! 

Over  the  hills  now, 

Jiggle  joggle,  jiggle  joggle! 
Down  through  the  vale  below, 

Jiggle  joggle  jee! 
All  the  cows  and  horses  run, 
Crying,  "  Won't  you  take  us  on, 
Loky  moky  poky  stoky 

Smoky  choky  chee  ?  " 

So,  so,  the  miles  go, 

Jiggle  joggle,  jiggle  joggle ! 
Now  it's  fast  and  now  it's  slow, 

Jiggle  joggle  jee ! 
When  we're  at  our  journey's  end. 
Say  good-by  to  snorting  friend, 
Loky  moky  poky  stoky 

Smoky  choky  chee  ! 


228  IX  MY  NURSERY. 


THE   FLAG  IN   THE   SCHOOLROOM. 

[Written  for  the  Central  Street  Grammar  School,  Gardiner,  Me.,  Dec.  20,  1S8D.] 

GODDESS  Freedom,  look  abroad 
From  thy  snowy  mount  to-night ! 
In  all  thy  realm  so  fair  and  broad, 
Thou  shalt  not  see  a  fairer  sight. 
Youthful  hearts,  so  glad  and  free, 
Paying  homage  due  to  thee : 
Youthful  voices,  fresh  and  strong, 
Singing  thine  immortal  song. 

As  the  stars  with  many  a  ray 
Deck  thy  banner's  azure  field, 
So  these  children  stand  to-day, 
Stars  of  hope  upon  thy  shield. 
May  each  boy,  to  manhood  grown, 
Ever,  Freedom,  be  thine  own  ; 
Now  thy  nursling,  frail  and  tender, 
Then  thy  strength  and  thy  defender. 

In  the  years  that  are  to  come, 
Be  they  dark  or  be  they  bright. 
Make  in  these  young  hearts  thy  home, 
Raise  them  to  thy  lofty  height. 
Keep  them  still,  in  manhood's  glow, 
Pure  as  is  our  northern  snow ; 
Keep  their  faith,  till  life  be  done, 
Bright  as  is  our  northern  sun ! 


JOHNNY  JUMP-UP.  229 


JOHNNY   JUMP-UP. 

WHO  wakes  earliest  in  the  morn? 

Sure  you'll  think  it  is  the  lark, 
Who  before  the  daylight's  born, 

Rises  singing  through  the  dark. 

But  though  sweet  the  lark  may  carol, 

Early  to  his  mate  may  call, 
Johnny  Jump-up,  Johnny  Jump-up, 

Carols  loud  before  them  all. 

Who  wakes  latest  in  the  night 

When  the  sun  is  gone  to  bed, 
When  each  tiny  blossom  bright 

Nods  in  sleep  its  pretty  head  ? 

Other  babies  all  are  sleeping, 
Mother's  eyelids  droop  and  fall. 

Johnny  Jump-up,  Johnny  Jump-up, 
Waketh  later  than  them  all. 

Johnny's  eyes  are  very  lovely, 

Johnny's  eyes  are  very  blue ; 
But  one  hardly  cares  to  see  them 

Snap  and  dance  the  whole  night  through. 

Johnny's  laugh  is  clear  and  ringing, 

Tinkling  like  a  silver  bell ; 
But  a  child  should  not  be  singing 

Morning,  noon,  and  night  as  well. 


230  IN  MY  NURSERY. 

Johnny  Jump-up,  Johnny  Jump-up, 
Rules  us  with  his  tiny  hand ; 

Lord  and  master,  king  and  kaiser, 
In  the  realm  of  Nurseryland. 

Take  your  pleasure  without  measure ; 

Laugh  and  crow,  and  whoop  and  call ! 
Johnny  Jump-up,  Johnny  Jump-up, 

We  're  your  faithful  servants  all ! 


THE  OUTLANDISHMAN. 

THE  Outlandishman  came  o'er  the  sea,  o'er  the  sea, 

In  a  skipaway  flipaway  boat ; 
And  who  so  merry,  so  merry  as  he, 

As  soon  as  he  got  afloat? 

He  sat  on  the  poop  to  gobble  his  soup 
With  a  spoon,  with  a  spoon  of  the  best ; 

And  part  of  his  fast  he  broke  on  the  mast, 
And  smashed  on  the  bowsprit  the  rest. 

He  lowered  his  line  in  the  deep,  in  the  deep, 

And  invited  the  fishlikins  up ; 
Then  he  hung  them  in  rows  in  front  of  his  nose, 

And  wished  it  were  time  to  sup. 

Then  the  Bottlegreen  Bovis  arose,  arose, 

And  asked  was  he  game  for  a  fight ; 
But  he  seized  on  the  anchor  and  threw  it  with  rancor, 

And  the  foe-fish  retired  from  sight. 


THE    OUTLANDISHMAN.  231 

He  danced  on  the  deck  with  never  a  check 

Till  the  clock,  till  the  clock  struck  nine. 
And  his  eyes  did  wink,  and  he  sang  "  tiuk  a  tink  ! " 

In  the  mowl  of  the  merry  moonshine. 

Lo  !   all  of  these  things  the  Outlandishman  did, 

As  he  sailed,  as  he  sailed  on  the  sea. 
Yea,  more  !   yea,  more !    both  sorry  and  sore, 

But  you  never  shall  learn  them  from  me. 


A  SLEIGH-RIDE. 

Ting!  ring!  the  sleigh-bells  jingle 

Merrily  over  the  frozen  snow. 
Cheeks  a-glow  and  ears  a-tingle, 

Tumble  in,  children,  here  we  go ! 

Ting !  ring !  the  sleigh-bells  jingle  ! 

Get  along,  Dobbin !    go  along,  Jack  ! 
Bells  and  voices  merrily  mingle, 

Swift  we  fly  as  an  arrow's  track. 

Ting!  ring!  the  sleigh-bells  jingle! 

Nose  cold,  Tommy  ?     Here,  rub  it  with  snow ! 
Toes  ache,  Ned  ?     Just  kick  till  they  tingle, 

Thump !  thump !  thump  !  on  the  dasher,  so  ! 

Ting !  ring  !  the  sleigh-bells  jingle  ! 

Snow-wreaths  fly  like  a  snow-sea's  foam. 
Sweet  bells,  sweet  laugh,  hark  !  how  they  mingle ! 

Tumble  out,  children,  here  we're  at  home ! 


232 


IN  MY  NURSERY. 


ONCE  there  lived  a  little  gnome 

Who  had  made  his  little  home 
Right  down  in  the  middle  of  the  earth,  earth,  earth. 

He  was  full  of  fun  and  frolic, 

But  his  wife  was  melancholic, 
And  he  never  could  divert  her  into  mirth,  mirth,  mirth, 


THE    LITTLE    GNOME. 


233 


He  had  tried  her  with  a  monkey 
And  a  parrot  and  a  donkey, 
And   a  pig  that  squealed  whene'er  he 

pulled  its  tail,  tail,  tail. 
But  though  he  laughed  himself 
Into  fits,  the  jolly  elf, 
Still    his    wifey's    melancholy    did    not 
fail,  fail,  fail. 

"  I  will  hie  me,"  said  the  gnome, 

"  From  my  worthy  earthy  home ; 

I  will  go  among  the  dwellings  of  the 

men,  men,  men. 


THE    BLINKING    BEAK. 


Something  funny  there  must  be, 
That  will  make  her  say  l  He,  he  ! ' 
1    will   find    it    and    will    bring    it    her 
again,  'gain,  'gain." 


THE   PATTY  1'OL. 


And 


his 


So  he  travelled  here  and  there, 

And  he  saw  the  Blinking  Bear, 

the    Pattypol    whose    eyes    are   in 

tail,  tail,  tail. 

And  he  saw  the  Linking  Gloon, 
Who  was  playing  the  bassoon, 
And  the  Octopus  a-waltzing  with  the  whale, 
whale,  whale. 

He  saw  the  Chingo  Chee, 
And  a  lovely  sight  was  he, 
With   a   ringlet   and   a  ribbon    on    his  nose, 
nose,  nose, 


THE    LINKING   GLOOX. 


234 


IN  MY  NURSERY. 


THE   OCTOPUS    AND   WHALE 


And  the  Baggie,  and  the  Wogg, 
And  the  Cantilunar  Dog, 
Who    was    throwing    cotton-flannel    at 
his  foes,  foes,  foes. 

All  these  the  little  gnome 
Transported  to  his  home, 
And  set  them   down   before   his  weep 
ing  wife,  wife,  wife ; 
But  she  only  cried  and  cried, 
And  she  sobbywobbed  and  sighed, 
Till   she   really  was   in   danger  of  her 
life,  life,  life. 


Then  the  gnome  was  in  despair, 
And  he  tore  his  purple  hair, 
And  he  sat  him  down  in  sorrow  on  a 

stone,  stone,  stone. 
I,  too,"  he  said,  "  will  cry, 
Till  I  tumble  down  and  die, 
For  I  've  had  enough 
of  laughing  all 
alone, 
'lone, 

'lone/' 


THE  HAGGLE.         THE  WOGG. 


THE  CHINGO  CHEE. 


THE    LITTLE    GNOME,  235 

His  tears  they  flowed  away, 

Like  a  rivulet  at  play, 
With  a  bubble,  gubble,  rubble,  o'er  the  ground,  ground,  ground. 

But  when  this  his  wifey  saw, 

She  loudly  cried  "  Haw,  haw ! 
Here  at  last  is  something  funny  you  have  found,  found,  found." 

She  laughed,  "  Ho,  ho  !   he,  he  ! " 

And  she  chuckled  loud  with  glee, 
And  she  wiped  away  her  little  husband's  tears,  tears,  tears. 

And  since  then,  through  wind. and  weather, 

They  have  said  "  He,  he  !  "  together, 
For  several  hundred  thousand  merry  years,  years,  years. 


THE  CANTILUNAR  DOG. 


236 


IN   MY   NURSERY. 


NCE  there  lived  a  little  Dutchess, 
Just  beside  the  Zuyder  Zee  ; 
Short  and  stout  and  roly-poly, 
As  a  Dutchess  ought  to  be. 


had  pigs  and  she  had  poultry, 
She  had  lands  and  she  had  gold  ; 
And  she  loved  the  Burgomaster,— 
Loved  him  more  than  can  be  told. 


"  Surly,  burly  Burgomaster, 
Will  you  have  me  for  your  love  ? 
You  shall  be  my  pouter-pigeon, 
I  will  be  your  turtle-dove. 


"  You  shall  have  my  China  porkers, 
You  shall  have  each  Dorking  hen  ; 
Take  them  with  your  loving  Dutchess, 
Oh,  you  Dutchiest  of  men  !  " 


THE    LITTLE    DUTCHESS. 

Loudly  laughed  the  Burgomaster, 
"  Naught  I  care  for  Dorking  fowls ; 
Naught  for  pig,  unless  't  is  roasted, 
And  on  that  my  doctor  scowls. 

"  Frumpy,  stumpy  little  Dutchess, 
I  do  not  incline  to  wed. 
Keep  your  pigs  and  keep  your  poultry  ! 
I  will  take  your  gold  instead. 


237 


"  I  will  take  your  shining  florins, 
I  will  take  your  fields'  rich  hoard  ; 
You  may  go  and  tend  your  piggies 
Till  your  spirits  be  restored." 

Loudly  wept  the  little  Dutchess, 
Tending  sad  each  China  pig; 
Loudly  laughed  the  Burgomaster 
'Neath  his  merry  periwig. 


j 


238 


IN  MY  NURSERY. 

Till  the  Dutchy  people,  angry 
Conduct  such  as  this  to  see, 
Took  and  plumped  the  pouter-pigeon 
Right  into  the  Zuyder 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


n 

WAR  18  1957 

I 

m 

p                01994 
DEC  15 

1981 

1 

< 

i 

5 

r 

I 

| 

j!j&j 

! 

i 

J! 

i 

Form  L9-100m-9,'52(A3105 

1444 

1 

&Fessrfs&& 


INIIIIII 

AA      000192103    o 


